Hungry Like the Wolf: A Rachel and Paul Novella
by Achelle Candy
Summary: Coming home has always been painful for Rachel. After graduating early, she's left to return home to LaPush. It was supposed to be just a visit. She meets her destiny at First Beach — one that she doesn't accept. How will Paul get her to give in?
1. Chapter 1: Homecoming

**Author's Notes:**

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just an overdramatic pervert. All storylines and maincharacters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Warning: Rated NC-17/MA for Adult Language and Sexual content. If lemons bother you, this isn't the story for you.

I'm baaack! And now for a new twist... i'm exploring the wolf side this time, with my favorite werewolf, Paul!

**Thank you to my beta: ElvenIvy aka LauraWeasley **

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**Chapter 1: Homecoming**

* * *

_Pleasure is saving up for three years to get the camera you want — the camera of your dreams. _

_I've dreamed since the tail end of grade school about this day. My trip to the camera shop in Vancouver with my Dad just moments ago has been the most exciting drive I've ever taken. _

_I sit in the kitchen, my eager hands practically tearing at the seams of the box. As I pull out the heavy weight of the Nikon D1, my heart reels with anticipation. My fingers tremble anxiously as I attach the 18-55mm lens to the camera. _

My_ camera._

_I'm shaking with excitement. I have to do some new test shots right away._

_"We're going to get some groceries," my mother tells me, kissing me on my forehead. "Your father and I will be back soon."_

_"Okay," I respond absentmindedly as I fiddle with my Nikon's settings, not even looking up as they walk out of the door._

_But I let my eyes scan my surroundings to look for something to photograph, and I begin to recall the way the cloud-filtered sun hits the kitchen table through the windows. Suddenly hit by a strong sense of déjà vu, I turn, my eyes scanning the house. The television is on a rerun of The Fresh Prince of Bell Air, __and Becky_ _is on the phone with a boy. Jacob is playing with his X-men action figures on the couch in the living room._

_Wait a minute…_

_Suddenly, I feel sick. This moment is oddly familiar._

_Something in my gut is screaming that this is wrong. _

_I look at my siblings going about their business as usual. Could it be?_

_No… I recognize it._

_I recognize this moment._

_I know what I am doing when this moment passes, when this happens the first time. What the room looks like. What episode of Fresh Prince they are running. What everyone is doing. I know what day this is._

_Oh, God._

_I know this day. I know what is going to happen._

_Without another thought, my mouth opens. "Don't get into the car!" I try to scream, but no sound comes out._

_I drop my camera, and it shatters into millions of pieces, but at this moment, it doesn't matter. _

_I have to stop them._

_I run to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it won't open. "Stop!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "Wait! Don't go!"_

_I turn to my siblings, but no one hears me. Rebecca is twirling her hair around her finger and laughing flirtatiously at the voice on the other line. Jacob has Wolverine in his hand, facing off with Magneto in the other._

_"Help me!" I exclaim towards them. "Help me open the door! We have to stop them!"_

_But they can't hear me, continuing on playing, talking, and laughing._

_My fists pound helplessly at the door and the windows, my mouth stretching out, but my voice box is out of whack. I try the door again, using my whole body this time, pulling with my hands and with my weight, using my feet for leverage._

_But when I finally break the door free and run out of the house into the rain, the car is a distant dot down the road. I know—I know within my gut—what news will return to us… and who will not be._

_"Mom!" My legs try to run after the car, and all I can see is her waving from the rear window._

_I stare helplessly after the bright smile on her beautiful face, slightly deformed from the streams of water on the rear window. _

_"Mom, no!"_

* * *

My eyes flew open.

I lay shivering and gasping in a warm bed, trying to break free of the horrid dream. The sky outside the nearest window was grey, and it took a moment for me to gather myself. When I was back to the reality of a clean, unfamiliar room, I felt a little disoriented as I didn't recognize my setting. It took me a moment to remember I wasn't home.

"Rachel," Dana whispered from the doorway. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," I said, rubbing my eyes as they focused around the unfamiliar room. "Nightmare."

I'd dreamed the same dream many times before, but it always brought with it the same feelings. I never got over the fear, the helplessness, the sorrow.

"I figured," she said with a knowing look.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and sautéed onions wafted from the kitchen. I looked at my friend, feeling embarrassed and silly. "Did I wake you?"

She shook her head of shoulder-length sandy blonde hair. "I was up already, but you did scare me."

"I'm sorry," I grumbled.

"Don't worry about it." She patted my hand before getting up to walk to the kitchen with a kind and understanding smile.

Dana Scott was one of my good friends. We'd met a couple years ago in a mixed critical theory class, and were roommates for two semesters. She was a year ahead of me, though we'd both graduated the same year. She was able to land a job right out of college while I finished up my credits this past summer.

It took a good four and a half hours to get to Seattle from Washington State's main campus in Pullman, with at least another two hours ahead of me to Forks. I figured staying the night at Dana's would be good. It was exciting to see her new apartment. I was envious that she'd found a job so quickly here in the big city, and I wanted that so much for myself. I had bigger dreams than to settle in on the reservation.

"Breakfast before you go on the road?" she offered after I got up to change and threw my pajamas into my bag. "I made some cheese omelets with a side of bacon and home fries."

"Ugh," I groaned. "That sounds so good, but you really shouldn't have." It was bad enough that I was crashing here, but the fact that she'd put the effort into breakfast just for me suddenly made me feel embarrassed. "And I shouldn't."

"Oh, come on," she teased. "I hardly have people over, and it's really good." She wasn't lying. Dana was an amazing cook.

I knew I had to get going before too much of the morning passed, but I sauntered over to the kitchen anyway, my stomach growling loudly. "Geez, that's quite a spread."

She chuckled. "I don't have guests often," she explained. "And you know with the extra room, I could always use a roommate."

"Don't tempt me," I said with a chuckle.

"I'm serious."

As I sat with her to eat, she knew better than to ask about home, instead talking to me about school and my last day at work. We laughed over what a relief it was that I wouldn't have to pour another cup of coffee at the Hillside Cafe for irritable professors or hung-over students on the WSU campus. I was looking forward to never having an exam to study for, or a corny school project to consume my time ever again.

Shortly after, I'd packed up my things and gave her a huge hug before getting back on the road.

I zoned out as the city of Seattle began to pass me by, with Mount Rainier behind me. It wasn't long before the Emerald City became an emerald forest. I arched my back forward, feeling the satisfying sensation of my joints cracking down my spine. A four hour drive would do that.

My heart began to race as I neared the Forks area. Coming home was never a treat for me, no matter how much I missed my dad or my brother. I sighed as I made a right onto 110 from the 101. It would take no time before it turned into La Push Road. Like most times, I wasn't too eager to get home.

In fact, I never was.

However, with my early graduation, there was nothing left for me at WSU, so I had no choice but to return to LaPush.

I wasn't moving back permanently.

No way.

I was just long overdue for a visit and temporarily staying until I could figure out my new living situation. I wanted to live in Seattle and get a big city job like Dana.

I figured it would be good to come back and bring a portion of my stuff with me. It would be less to move to Seattle once I'd found somewhere to room. I figured I might just take Dana up on her offer, since we'd gotten along so well living together in the dorms.

La Push Road was a long stretch of green, about 15 minutes of it before I hit the reservation. It was a good stretch of road to get lost in the tall forest, and the thick, chartreuse-colored blanket of moss, and just… think. I was excited to see my father again, as well as my little brother.

I picked up my cell phone as it rang. I heard a mirror sound of my voice on the other end. "You there yet?"

Rebecca, of course. I smiled to myself, knowing we never really had to greet each other to speak. "Not yet. Probably in the next fifteen minutes or so."

"Oh, okay. Congrats, again by the way. I'm sorry I didn't make your graduation."

"Beck, don't worry about it. You are a newlywed who still hasn't ironed out your finances with Solomon . I understand."

"But you made it to my wedding," she insisted.

"Barely. If you call booking it through the sand to make the first reading in your ceremony making it."

"You were there, Raych. I think that's enough."

I grunted. "Still! Stop feeling guilty! You can visit when you and Solomon have saved enough."

A sigh filtered through my receiver. "I miss you," she said.

Such a sap. Being hundreds of miles from your twin, your best friend from the womb, will do that to you. "Miss you, too."

"What street are you on?"

I hadn't realized the street had changed when it did, but the telltale signage and the tall trees were unmistakable. A pang of anxiety hit my stomach. "La Push." My voice was small, but I knew she heard.

There was a pause on the other line, not surprising to me. "Wow. Back home, huh?"

It took me a moment to answer. "Yeah."

There was another pause on the other end, but she didn't have to say anything for me to know what she was thinking. "You're stronger than I am."

I sighed again, seeing the sign for the La Push Reservation, a lump rising up the column of my throat and settling at my tonsils. "Not sure about that."

I had to be real. I hadn't been home in a good three years. My father came to Pullman once in a while to see me, and my brother would come along only half of those times. My sister had visited me once a year as well, but, like me, she didn't care to come home to the reservation. There was just too much pain out this way with so many memories, and we avoided the memories at all costs. Of course, I didn't have the same excuse that she did, and even choosing being an six and half hour drive away, I didn't have the pretext of ridiculously priced airfare as an obstacle.

I hit the town of the reservation after getting off the phone with my sister, and it just felt weird to be home again - to see the familiar streets, buildings, and surroundings of my childhood. I already hated it.

A few moments passed, and I realized that there were flyers posted everywhere… the same one over and over. My eyes focused as I read:

_Have you seen this boy?_

That wasn't the disturbing part because I'd seen about forty of them before my mind had processed its contents. Most disturbing of it was the picture - one that I recognized. It had come to me in the mail almost a year ago. Jacob's junior year picture.

My knees began to shake so bad that I pulled the car over. I stepped out and stalked over to the post, ripping the flyer from it and running back into my car.

Jake's picture. Text that read:_ Have you seen this boy?_

What the hell was going on?

My knees nearly buckled as I was suddenly cast into a dizzy spell.

Missing? Jacob? My baby brother?

It felt like an anxiety attack, and I had to hold onto the post that I'd ripped the flyer from, squeezing my eyes shut while my body looked for balance.

Once I found my strength again, I was on the road and full of rage as I zoomed down La Push Road. I made a turn on the road that I knew so well, up the street to our property.

I drove past the barn that was my brother's self-made garage and approached my childhood home, the small red, humble structure that carried with it a whole lot of great memories, and the most painful ones, as well.

My fingers shook at the thought of being home as I parked the car, but nothing overpowered my anger as I held the flyer of my baby brother in my hand.

Flustered, I ran into the door. My father wheeled himself into the room.

For a second, pain shot through me as I saw my father in a wheel chair. I could never get used to that sight, even though I'd seen him last month at my graduation ceremony. Complications of his diabetes proved too much and eventually claimed the use of his legs. I quickly shook myself out of it.

"Rachel! Am I so gl—"

I unfolded the crumpled flyer and waved it in front of him. "Dad, what the hell is _this_?"

"What… ah." He stared at the piece of paper, guilt and sadness overtaking the look of happiness my arrival had brought. Yet, somehow, he shook his head at the flyer. "Rachel—"

"He's _missing_? Jake is _missing_?"

"He's not missing. He just took a leave of absence."

"A leave of absence? Since when does Jacob take leave? From his disabled father? From his life?"

He winced at the mention of "disabled" and then grimaced, unable to look me in the eye, but looking as if he was trying to find some explanation.

"Sorry," I muttered, immediately ashamed of what flew out of my mouth.

"He just took a much needed vacation," he explained further, ignoring my earlier insensitive comment about his condition.

"So how do you explain this?" I asked, waving the flyer in his hand.

He muttered something under his breath about Charlie, and I wondered what the Fork's Chief of Police had to do with this. "It's not what you think."

"So, then, it's a vacation? And you know where he took this 'vacation?'" I asked, my fingers quoting the word.

"Not… exactly—"

"My God, Dad," I grumbled. "When were you gonna tell me?"

"I didn't want to alarm you."

"And you thought keeping this from me would be a good thing_?"_

"I told you before, he's not missing. He just left for a while. Besides, you were busy trying to graduate, and your finals were coming. That's stressful enough. No need to worry you if I can help it. Your brother just left for a while. I assumed he'd be back before you got home. I figured you could be told when you got here if he wasn't."

My head was spinning, but I had to try to get a hold of his reasoning. True, it was a very stressful situation. Though my graduation was guaranteed before summer semester began, my GPA was not. My last semester was one of the hardest I'd had to endure.

"He'll be back," he reassured me.

"And you don't know where he went?"

He let out a frustrated exhale. "He's fine, Rachel."

"But you don't know where he is?"

"Your brother just needed some time away. Now, let's get you settled in."

"I'm not moving until you answer my questions." I inhaled in an attempt to suck up my frustration, but failed miserably. "How long has he been gone?" The question was breathed through clenched teeth.

"Rachel—"

I took another deep breath, trying to calm myself. I knew I was hardly home for fifteen minutes, so to come into my father's house yelling at him just wasn't right. "Dad, please," I said, sitting on our old couch in an effort to be eyelevel with him. "How long?"

He looked at me, his face calculating for a moment before he answered. "Since late June," he said.

"Dad." I shook my head in disbelief as I looked at him. "It's _August_."

His lips pressed into a straight line.

"What happened? Where did he go?"

He shook his head, a sharp exhale leaving his mouth. "I don't know, sweetheart."

"It doesn't make sense. Why would he run away? Why would he leave?"

"Maybe you should get settled in—"

"_Why?"_

As I sat to listen to a cliff notes version of the last couple of years, distaste surrounded my tongue. Charlie Swan's daughter moves to Forks, befriends Jacob, and turns my brother's world upside down. It seemed he'd been lead along, only to be passed up by one of the town's weirdest residents. I'd seen the Cullens once or twice before, and though I had a vague recollection of their good looks, I had much sharper memories of how I found them strange and sinister as hell.

"All this… for a stupid _girl_?"

"You're brother is brokenhearted. Not every day that you find out the girl you're in love with is getting married to someone else."

"With a _Cullen_?" I asked, disgusted. I wasn't exactly sure why I didn't like them, really. They'd moved here my senior year, underclassmen who kept to themselves, though no one really cared to be around them in general. I just knew that they gave me the creeps, and I didn't care to be near them, much less imagine marrying one. "What? Is she, like, knocked up?"

"Rachel," he chided.

"What?"

"It's the way he wants to deal with it. We just have to let him and trust that when he's ready, he'll come back."

"If you're not worried, then why the hell are there flyers plastered everywhere of him being missing?"

"Your brother is _not _missing. The flyers were Charlie's idea, _not _mine. I didn't think those were necessary."

Groaning, I furrowed my brow in pure aggravation. "How could you take this all in stride? My baby brother is out there!"

"Young lady, I know you are emotional, but you need to quit raising your voice at me."

My hands covered my face as I took a deep, calming breath. "I'm sorry."

"He is my son, too. My baby boy, as well, so we're hurting just the same. You think I'm not worried? I worry every day… about all three of you. But, in truth, he's not missing. He chose to leave. He's just… lost. He needs time to himself. He'll find his way back home. Trust me."

I shook my head in disapproval. "This isn't something you take on by yourself, Dad." Guilt plagued my heart for leaving my disabled father to care for himself and for not staying behind to try to be a mother figure for my little brother.

"I'm not by myself. I've got my friends. Charlie's here to help. Sue Clearwater. Sam and his boys." His hand reached out to mine in reassurance. "People are here for me."

I folded my arms and shook my head at him.

"Rachel, he will be fine. And he will come home when he's ready. Please believe me when I say that if it was any further cause for concern, I'd react appropriately."

I sighed in defeat. What else could I do?

"Why don't we get you get settled in. Let me help you get your stuff into Jake's room—"

"It's fine, Dad. I can do it."

"There will be none of that. Let me take care of my little girl."

I followed him out to the car, and pretended that seeing him in that wheelchair didn't hurt me. I humored him anyway, knowing he wanted to feel useful, and always insisted on living like his paralysis wasn't a handicap.

Handing him my largest bag to lay across his lap, he took it with a smile. He motioned to get the rest of my luggage, but I insisted that I was okay.

We entered the house, and I was immediately assaulted by the scent of home—the scent I was able to ignore in all my anxiety when I stormed in moments earlier and interrogated my father on the whereabouts of my brother. That familiar mix of old wood, moth balls, and aging drywall churned my stomach into something uneasy. It brought memories long suppressed in my time away—unwelcomed memories of a time when the Black family was complete and happy. I fought to push them in the corner of my mind.

Luckily, my father wanted an update on my studies, and I was more than happy to think of something else.

He asked me more about my last days at school as I turned the corner and walked down the hall, opening the door to my old room, now currently my younger brother's room. There was a twin bed pushed up against a window, a dresser, a book shelf, and the tiniest closet ever.

I realized I didn't miss the size of my old room, either.

"Listen," he began as we put the last of my stuff down in the room and were leaving. "It was poor planning on my part. Charlie is coming over Saturday morning…"

"Fishing again?" I asked with a knowing grin. It was routine and didn't surprise me at all. I followed him into the kitchen.

"Yes, but I can cancel—"

"No, Dad," I interjected. "It's okay. We've got lots of time to hang out and catch up."

He smiled, seeming to be pleased by the idea of more time.

The guilt rattled within me once again as I realized that the time wouldn't be that long, as I was eager to get back to my life away from LaPush again.

I spent the afternoon vacuuming and dusting the room, and then unpacking and rearranging my clothes as best I could. It took a while to get situated in a room that I knew would be occupied soon. If my father had the confidence that Jake was coming home, I wasn't about to try to make this room mine.

By the time I tidied the room and got my wardrobe in decent order, I'd worked so hard I managed to work myself to sleep right on the living room couch. All I could do the rest of the night after fixing me and my dad some dinner was crawl back into bed.

I tossed and turned, not used to my home anymore, feeling a bit disoriented as I slept in this house again after so long. I felt ill at ease here, without Mom and without Jacob. The fact that I was in his bed wasn't helping either, like it was wrong. I didn't understand how his disappearance didn't keep my dad up like it was doing to me. However, I realized I had to take his word for it—that Jacob would be back. Why wouldn't he, right?

Well, just because I took his word, didn't't mean I had to like it.

I woke the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose. The house was tidy but still quite dusty, and I'd inherited my mom's need for cleanliness and nesting. So, I dusted the furniture, swept the floors, vacuumed the carpets, and triedto make spick and span every crack and crevice in the house. My dad's handicap didn't help him get up into the lights or the upper cupboards and cabinets. Having something to do was easier than just sitting around and letting the memories suffocate me.

I was able to cook a full breakfast and a great lunch for my dad between chores. He wasn't happy that I took it upon myself to clean the house, but he was okay with whatever made it easier for me to be here. Billy was just happy to have me around. We drove to the grocery store to pick up some food. I even made us some nice juicy steaks and twice baked potatoes. He was truly impressed by how much I'd grown as a cook.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty house. Dad had left with Charlie for that fishing trip way early.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror after I washed my face. I frowned as I noticed the bags under my eyes and realized I needed to pull out the air mattress and sleep on Jake's floor later tonight. Sleeping in his bed while he was presumed missing just felt immoral to me—like I'd resolved to the impossibility of Jake's return.

I padded over to the kitchen and poured a bowl of Cheerios for myself, eating while I watched Good Morning America absentmindedly. It was better than silence. Silence in this house usually brought with it the faint echo of my mother's laughter. It accentuated the hollowness of a once complete and happy family that dwelled under this very roof.

It brought forward the hollowness of my mother's place in my heart.

After washing the dishes, I returned to the bathroom to put my face on. As I tried to ignore the bags under my eyes, I strained to look past it all to see what everyone always told me. They said my sister and I took after my mother. I wasn't so sure I agreed with them. She was much prettier than I was, and I was sure I had eyes like my dad. Jacob actually had many of my mother's features.

I suppressed a tear and swallowed a threatening sob. I was not going to do this.

I had to get away. I ran a brush through my hair quickly and pulled it into a ponytail. I did a quick smear of moisturizing lotion on my face, throwing on nothing but lip-gloss and mascara. I jumped into some dark wash jeans and a sparkly Hollister tank top.

_The beach,_ I thought. _I should go to the beach._

In case it got cold, I grabbed a sweater, shoved my feet in my yellow Havaiana flip flops, and shut the door behind me, jogging to my Corolla.

The beach sounded perfect.

Maybe there I'd find some serenity — some peace beside the ocean.

I decided to drive into downtown Forks to Sully's Drive-In and get a burger and fries to go. I knew I'd get hungry, and I had to be prepared if I wanted to stay the day on the beach.

On my way back into the reservation, I grew tense as I drove past the cemetery, training my eyes forward. It was clear that I wasn't ready to visit any grave sites soon.

As I drove up to the beach, putting the car in park, I noticed a quartet of guys playing football on the sand.

I walked forward towards the other side of First Beach, not caring to interrupt any game. I didn't want to socialize. Besides, I didn't know any of them. None looked too familiar to me, and they were so engrossed in their game that they didn't notice me either.

I took my lunch with me as I walked the coast on the opposite side of the beach of the football game, wanting to eat alone and watch the waves hit the sand in solitude. Sitting on a large rock, I pulled out my turkey burger, fries, and iced tea, consuming it slowly and just enjoying the beach.

After ditching my bag in a nearby trash can, I took a leisurely stroll. Enjoying the sound of the surf and the workout of walking through the sand, I thought to walk back to where I had parked. The boys were still playing football, and this time, I watched them mindlessly. I froze as I caught sight of one of them with the most pronounced muscles. He wasn't like the other three, the lines harder around his form than his buddies.

I wasn't sure why, but I was suddenly reminded of my nonexistent love life.

I'd never cared too much for the boys from our tribe. Somehow I'd only been attracted to every other race, but something about the man running around with the football kept my attention. Turning back to the ocean, I wondered, as I saw a pelican take a nosedive into the water for fish, why I'd never felt that way for anyone I grew up with. I figured maybe it was the fact that the reservation was so small that I felt like everyone was family. To think of the possibility that I might be related to prospective Quileute boys was a turn off.

However, I couldn't understand why I kept looking over at the football game and what it was about the guy that kept my interest.

The slices of sunlight that came through the cloudy sky cradled the contours of his body, his muscled shoulders enhanced to my sight.

Okay, so maybe I did know what it was that drew my eyes to him.

They all took a break, walking over to a cooler and a bunch of their belongings, pulling out soda cans. I observed as they took in their refreshments, practically leering at the one guy as he took a long pull of his Mountain Dew. I saw that he tugged at the hem of his shirt, and I couldn't help but gawk. He pulled the shirt off of his body, tossing it to the side, and I got the full load of what he was hiding underneath those fibers.

His back was… amazing. As he stretched his arms up to the sky, my eyes followed the chiseled lines of his body and… yeah.

Amazing.

There was no other word for it.

His muscles fanned out in a gorgeous pattern from his spine, splayed upwards towards his shoulders in large protrusions and indentations, running smoother in the graceful slope towards his waist. As he turned towards my direction in a play fight with the other boys, I saw that his pectoral muscles were just as pronounced as those on his back, and the large washboard abdomen of his didn't disappoint.

He didn't see me, of course, continuing to rough house with the other guys. Thank God, or else I would've looked away, completely embarrassed about how I'd shamelessly leered at him.

Just then, as my eyes got their fill of his golden-brown skin, I felt someone come up from behind me, startling me and causing me to turn away from those boys.

"Well, well, well… As I live and breathe," I heard a deep female voice say from behind me. "Rachel Black has returned to LaPush."

I turned my head as I knew that voice anywhere, my face lighting up in the presence of an old but dear friend. "Leah!"

We hugged each other tightly for a moment. If it was one thing I regretted about leaving home, it was leaving friends and family behind, like Leah Clearwater.

I guess you could say she was a best friend at one time. All three of us actually—Leah, Rebecca, and I—were the best of compadres since birth. We'd grown up together, went to school together. Unfortunately, life went on, and things changed. We'd kept in touch sporadically via email, phone calls and chat, but that was about it. Distance proved to be a feat when keeping up with a friendship. It was a shame.

However, in this instance, I realized I'd missed her. A lot.

"I got word that you were coming back," she said as I pulled away.

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm done."

"Congrats," she offered, giving me yet another hug. "So proud of you. Washington State and a year early. When do you march?"

"Already did," I answered before thinking, my eyes still studying the hottie as they began tossing the football around again. "This past May fifteenth, actually." Turning toward her, I flinched a bit.

Her brows shot up in surprise.

I felt like I needed to explain further, realizing I was a bit guilty for not inviting her. "They let you march in the spring if all you've got is a summer semester to finish."

She shrugged it off. "Wow, that's… pretty cool. Awfully trusting of them."

"It is a bit presumptuous, yeah, but at least you know they have faith in their students, you know?"

We chatted and caught up with each other as she strolled with me, dusk coming quickly in the horizon to our left. It was strange how she seemed hesitant to talk about what's new with her, but considering the loss of her father, I didn't want to pry.

There were many things to feel guilty about. Missing Harry Clearwater's funeral was one of them. "Leah, about your dad…"

She shook her head, lifting her hand, palm forward, in my direction as if to stop me from speaking further. "I know," she breathed, looking forward.

"I'm really sorry," I offered in a soft tone. I couldn't let her stop me. I had to offer my condolences.

She just nodded her head and said nothing, continuing to take steps along with me on the sand.

"And I'm really sorry about not being here—"

"Rachel, you live close to nine hours away. I didn't expect you to make it." It was said with a shaky voice.

I winced anyway. It was nice of her to say, but I considered if she was just being polite. I couldn't blame her if she was upset that I wasn't here.

"But, thank you for the flowers." Her voice came out steady this time, more even. "They were the nicest ones that came." She smiled, but her eyes a million miles away. The sorrow was clear on her face.

And I knew exactly how it felt. I stopped to stand in her sight, because she was clearly avoiding eye contact. I wanted her to see my face. I was sure the grief in my eyes mirrored hers. "Well, I'm here now. So whether you want to hang out and talk about it, or do the total opposite like me…"

"Thank you," she said with a sigh. "I'd like that." I hoped that she came to the realization that I understood exactly how she felt, and that misery loved company, even if it was just to escape it.

However, I wasn't sure why I had brought up such a subject, because the thought of my mother laid heavy in my heart. Thank goodness there was someone to break the conversation.

"Rachel? Rachel Black?" I heard a young male voice ask.

I looked up to the sound of my name, seeing a young boy in a man's body walking toward me. But it wasn't till he was a few yards away that I recognized the familiar eyes and goofy smile of my younger second cousin. "Wait… _Quil_? Quil _Ateara_? "

"Hey!" He sped up to a jog and hugged me.

I hadn't seen my cousin in years. And I smiled, hugging him back. I did a once over on him as I took a step back. "Look at you! I can't believe how much you've grown!"

He beamed in delight. He was proud. "Yeah, finally."

"Finally? Quil, you're a giant."

He snickered bashfully. "Thanks." Turning away from me, he called over his shoulder. "Hey, Embry, look who's here!"

It wasn't until Embry Call came running over to me when I realized that there were only two guys tossing a football. They had been two of the four guys playing on the beach.

"Rachel!" Embry said, giving me a hug. "So glad you're back!"

"Thanks, Embry." I wasn't sure what was going on with these boys but they were suddenly a full head taller than I am.

"Yeah," Quil interceded. "Billy must be relieved to have you home."

Embry nudged Quil with his elbow and eyed him thoughtfully, in an effort to be discreet. I wondered what that was about before I realized they were probably trying to keep my mind off of my father… or my brother.

"He is," I agreed, nodding my head, though the statement only led me to think about Jacob anyway. It was hard not to, not when I was standing in front of Quil and Embry. These were his two best friends, and if there was anyone that he confided in, Quil and Embry would be the ones. "Hey, so… do you guys hear from my brother at all?" I would figure they'd know more than my father would.

They shook their head, unable to look me in the eye.

"We're sorry," Embry muttered. "I mean, he'll be back when he's ready, you know? He just needs some space."

"Yeah, Rachel, give it some time. He'll be back before you know it."

"So how's Rebecca?" Quil asked suddenly. "Is she coming to town, too?"

"No, she's—" I stuttered, my mind racing a million miles at the thought of my brother. "She's not coming anytime soon. Financial issues."

"Oh," Quil said, though the exchange was far too awkward.

They quickly changed the topic, though I'd tuned out. They were throwing jibes at Leah about skipping out on their football fun, and she had her snappy come backs, but nothing claimed my attention.

Frustration found me again. Why wasn't anyone more concerned about my brother? I sighed in deference, turning away from them in frustration, towards the parking lot as they teased Leah about something I wasn't interested in.

That's when it happened. The guy—the hottie, the one I'd been checking out hard core since I'd arrived at the beach—turned to face me.

Our eyes latched, clinging to one another, and my breath caught, my body freezing in its pose.

Though yards away, I felt that he was right there, in front of me.

Even at the distance from him, I could see his eyes clearly, the irises a bottomless mug of Starbuck's espresso. His gaze was like a soothing, warm caress over my body, though his chocolate eyes never left my own. My heart increased its pace, my blood running warm in rapids, coursing through my veins.

Time literally stopped.

In that instant—somehow, in my mind—I knew that things would never be the same.

_I _would never be the same.

* * *

**End notes:**

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Be sure to follow me on twitter achelle131 for updates, or find me in the twilighted forum under "achelledenalicullen".

For teasers and/or discussion on Hungry Like the Wolf visit HLW's thread on Twilighted Forums under the Breaking Dawn section.

For teasers on my Emmett/Rosalie fics _Vanity and Patience/Strength and Remorse __you may find the V&P thread under Pretwilight__._


	2. Chapter 2: Marked

**Author's Notes:**

* * *

**Playlist:**

Tevin Campbell – Can We Talk

Jodeci - Come and Talk to Me

Jon B & Babyface – Pretty Girl

Total - Kissing You

**My Beta: LauraWeasley**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Marked**

* * *

My heart raced within my chest, beating so loudly, I was afraid the others could hear it. It pumped my blood swiftly, suddenly warmer than normal, through my system. The heat traveled through my body, from my limbs to my fingers and toes.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but somehow I felt a change within me—a shift within my mind and my heart.

Surrounding voices and sounds of the sea were muffled. All I could hear was his breathing, an inhale and exhale in time with the rise and fall of his shoulders. Visions of those around us—the dead tree trunks on the ground, the grey waves of the Pacific, the flat expanse of sand—all blurred. And I felt nothing—not the ground below my feet, not the chill of the coming evening that overtook the warm air, nor the breeze of the ocean—nothing but him. The heat from his body filled the space between us. I smelled only a warm musk in the air that I somehow knew was his.

An ember ignited within me, a tiny flame of need. It was distinct and solid—almost feral. It glowed—powerful, overwhelming. I needed him. I wanted him.

I felt a pull toward him, like a magnet. I was uncertain whether it was physical or mental force, but it definitely drew me to him. In just that one moment that seemed to last a lifetime and beyond, there was no one else in this world. No one existed but him.

His gaze was like warm honey pouring down my naked body. Part of me felt like it should make me feel uncomfortable, but it had an opposite effect on me. I _wanted_him to look at me that way—and that scared me.

"Looks like everyone else is here now," Leah grumbled behind me.

And like that, the moment was gone. The need, the pull, the heat—it was all still there, growing and setting shop within me—but I was able to pull away from the moment and respond to everything else. I willed myself to turn my back on his direction, as I heard the rest of the boys laughing and gathering.

I was surprised I hadn't noticed earlier, but I always felt lighter without my camera hanging from my neck. "Come with me to my car?" I asked Leah.

"Sure," she said, and she came with me to retrieve my Nikon before we walked back to join the others.

"Hey! Is that Rachel?" It was a small, husky voice, but not the same scratchy husk of my brother's voice, and a few pitches higher. Definitely was a younger boy.

I turned to the familiar face of Seth, Leah's baby brother.

As I made small talk with the Clearwaters, I was able to look collectively at this group of young adults, and I realized a striking similarity in all of them… tall, cropped hair, lean, yet impressive tone and musculature. I decided to snap some candids of them as they all talked and rough-housed with one another. And then I turned the camera towards Leah, who was reluctant to have her photo taken.

Seth, of course, was open to being photographed. He even posed for the camera a few times, with the same playful, happy demeanor he'd always had. His features, however, had altered much like everyone else here. He was younger, no doubt, but he wore the same close cropped hair cut, the cut-off jeans. Even though his body was still clearly adolescent, I could tell that in a year or so, he would look just like the rest of them.

There were two other boys even younger than Seth who had arrived with him. I was pretty sure I recognized them from when I was younger, but I couldn't place their names because they were so young.

Seth smiled brightly as he let me know how much he missed seeing me. You couldn't even see the grief in him; he was such a bundle of sunshine. He was so cute, and I was instantly brought back to my memory of Jacob before I'd left for college, that scrawny little eighth-grader. When he came with Dad to my graduation ceremony in May, he suddenly looked three or four years older than me. It was a shock to me to see him that way. Wherever he was, he needed to come back.

As Seth went on to say hello to the rest of the guys, Leah and I both stared after him. He walked over to the guys, and it almost seemed like they could all be related.

They looked a lot like Sam Uley, though I dared not mention his name to Leah. Sam had already looked this way before I left, suddenly inches taller, looking like he'd hit the gym twenty-four-seven. But I wasn't here when all the drama happened. I'd been away almost three years, but I still wasn't too far to hear about what happened with him and her cousin. I'd only met Emily a few times in the past. She seemed nice enough, until I heard about her and Sam. It was tough not to be judgmental about it.

That's when I saw Embry had put Seth in a headlock and rubbed the knuckles of his fist in Seth's hair. I couldn't resist capturing that moment. He could've easily been mistaken as Seth's brother. It was hard not to notice all their similarities. "Well, there seems to be something going in the LaPush water system; all these boys with their gigantic heights and the bodybuilder muscles."

Leah snorted. "Yeah, guess you can say that."

Lowering my camera from my eyes, I regarded the harsh, blunt cut of Leah's hair, and her outfit—super short jean shorts and a camisole. She'd always worn it long for as long as I remember. She never dressed this revealing before; the closest to shorts she wore were capris. She was always thin and slender, but she had a brand new hardness to her body—musculature that wasn't there before I left. She, herself, was taller than I remembered. Feminine and beautiful still, but she was definitely a strong, powerful woman.

"You seemed to have had your share from the same fountain as well," I noted.

A flicker of anger shot through her face before her eyes saddened. Nothing lasted and he quickly wiped any emotion off of her features. "Unfortunately," she muttered, so low that I strained to hear it.

"Are you kidding?" I asked, my eyes giving her a look of what-the-hell. "I'd kill to have your supermodel height."

"It ain't all that, believe me, Rachel," she sighed, wryly. It was a dismissive tone.

I lifted the Nikon and peered through the lens once again, clicking a few more shots of the guys. They were all play-fighting, and I was happily taking stills of them with the ocean behind them. It was quickly becoming a photo session closer to an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.

The hot guy, or "Muscles" as I'd deemed him mentally, kept sneaking glances over at me. How did I not notice him before? Clearly "Muscles" and his buddy were Native, but maybe he was new? From the neighboring tribes? The Makah reservation? Or maybe Hoh? Many kids from the Makah, Hoh, and Quinault nations came to our reservation for schooling, so maybe that's where he was from.

Even still, the rest of the boys seemed to know him and his other friend well, who I only presumed was a new transfer as well. But they all laughed and played together like they'd known each other for years. Embry and Quil, even Seth and Leah.

I would blush terribly when our eyes would meet, preferring to study him when he wasn't aware. Luckily, I could hide my eyes behind the camera, unable to resist snapping a few shots of him. One was a straight on close up of his profile as he laughed. The lines of his face were so strong and beautiful; the impulse to photograph him was irresistible. I found myself visually measuring his bicep and the span of his broad, powerful shoulders.

What the hell where the Quileute boys doing these days? I decided they probably hit the gym with a large amount of steroids.

Yeah. Had to be.

"Who's that?" I tried to ask with nonchalance, inclining my head in their direction.

Leah's face was a combination of boredom and disgust as her eyes found and rested on my subjects in question. "That's Jared Cameron and Paul Lahote."

I froze.

"From high school?" I'd distinctly remembered Paul as a short stocky kid who had one hell of a record being sent to the principal's office. He'd bugged the shit out of me, always starting fights with people at school. He was Jake's grade, though they weren't close—more acquaintances then friends. In fact I recollected that they didn't get along. I remembered watching both Jared and Paul with the three stooges—Jake, Quil, and Embry.

In fact, I was pretty sure he was one of the many youngsters I had babysat to save up for my first Nikon. I'd taken two summers, one during middle school, and the one right before high school to be a sitter for the Quileute youngsters. I sifted through the memories in my mind about babysitting those five boys.

But then a flash of a memory came to me, where I was frustrated—crying and upset. I was trying to get a huge wad of grape-flavored BubbleYum out of my hair. My mother stood behind me, trying to pull the strands out of the sticky bunch, but too much had been caught in it. A young, rowdy boy had put it in my hair earlier that day. I was too busy watching _Days of Our Lives_ to pay attention to him as I watched him, Jake, and Quil one afternoon.

There was a reason this memory stood out.

That little boy. BubbleYum boy _was_ Paul.

I was suddenly let down. My little fantasy was no more than an overgrown punk—a young nuisance from my childhood.

_Muscles?_ Pfft.

It was hard to believe, but as he shot a look over at me again, I could see it in the familiar angles of his face—though it had aged almost beyond recognition in such a short amount of time. No way. "_Paul _Lahote?"

Leah gave me a look like I was stupid. "Uh… that's what I said." She watched me, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why?"

"No reason," I muttered, shrugging it off.

Leah wasn't easily fooled, and I tried not to shrink under her scrutiny.

Her eyes darted between me and Paul. "Hmm," she wondered out loud.

"I—I was just curious," I clarified quickly. I was beyond mortified. Paul? LaPush's resident troublemaker was my mystery hot guy? I suddenly felt nauseous, disgusted with myself.

He was Jacob's age, for God's sake!

_Eww!_

Leah's eyes continued to switch between me and Paul. She mumbled something that sounded like "Shit" but I wasn't too sure.

I looked at her, confused at her reaction. Her face was twisted in disgust and disappointment as she looked at Paul like he'd done something wrong, but then we heard more people approaching.

As her eyes turned to the sound of footsteps, her face changed. I read the emotion there: sadness, pain, and arrogance. She suddenly straightened her posture, and turned away.

I followed her eyes and immediately understood the shift in expression. It was Sam Uley, the love of Leah Clearwater's life, with her cousin Emily in toe. He had his arm around her shoulders, though I saw that she'd taken a step away from him as she noticed her cousin standing next to me.

Scandalous.

"Rachel," he greeted with a light voice, extending his arms out to me in an invitation for a hug. "So nice to see you back."

"Sam," I said, holding one arm out instead. I leaned into him slightly out of politeness. However, I wasn't interested in holding up any misguided charades. I'd lost a lot of respect for him after what happened with Leah. It wasn't a secret.

I put effort in disguising my expression of shock as my eyes turned to his girlfriend's face, with the three long scars running down the right side. Emily's mouth—or what wasn't marred by her wounds— stretched into a perky smile. "Hi, Rachel. How are you?"

I looked at the partially disfigured face, trying my best to smile back, extending my hand out to hers to shake it. "Hey, Emily. I'm good. Nice to see you again."

Sam smiled as Emily returned to his arms. "We heard you were back from college."

I tried my best not to check out Leah's face as Sam's hands rubbed Emily's back. "Yeah." I found it challenging to hide my own disdain for Leah's situation.

"Congratulations," Sam said.

"Yeah," Emily agreed, her voice small. "Congratulations on graduating." Her smile and tone were sincere, and I was sure under any other circumstance, I'd adore her.

I nodded my head, unable to look them in the eye as I forced a smile on my face. "Thank you."

She was perceptive, her eyes turning to Sam for help.

He spoke up confidently. "Maybe we'll be seeing more of you, now that you're done with school? I know Billy is happy to have you back."

"Maybe," I nodded.

Sam wasn't oblivious to the awkward tension. "Well, we'll just be over there." They walked away together after I nodded, putting a comfortable amount of distance between us.

I shot a curious glance at Leah, who was watching the other guys. I guessed she'd kept her eyes there rather than on Emily and Sam.

As I followed her glance, I realized the boys had quit their football game, coming in to have a drink.

Muscles—er—Paul, I guess—had put a soda at his feet. He pulled the white wife-beater over his head, clearly done with his game.

What a shame, I thought, though I shook myself out of it. Sure, his body was a treat to my eyes, but he was still the boy who stuck gum in my hair.

"Where the fuck is my sweat shirt?" he suddenly growled, stalking around the piles of shirts and coolers that belonged to the group. His voice came out in an angry roar that made me turn my head his way. "Who the fuck took my goddamn shirt?"

Quil held out a piece of navy blue cloth from his hand. "You mean this dirty old rag?"

"Give it back, Quil."

Quil's hands were swift, pulling them away.

Paul let a sound close to a growl, launching himself towards my cousin with keen precision.

Quil skidded around, quick on his feet, successfully dodging him. "What, Paul? You didn't think I'd try to get you back for the other day?"

"Quil, I freakin' swear, if you don't give me my shirt back—"

My cousin danced in front of him, swinging the shirt teasingly from side to side. "You'll what?" he said, taunting Paul.

A snarl ripped out of Paul's throat, one that stunned the whole crowd of us and had everyone looking over. Silence was all that was left, and everyone stood up as they watched Paul as if he was about to explode. His body began to tremble, the tremors reverberating through is limbs.

"Easy!" a voice commanded. It was strong, and authoritative. Sam was there at once, putting his towering form between the two young men. "Paul, calm down."

Paul's eyes never left Quil. "Give me back my fucking shirt, asshole." The trembling in his form rolled to the point where it was visible probably yards away. He crouched down, his body coiled. His muscles locked in an angry tension, looking as if the blood in his veins was boiling.

"Easy there, Paul," Jared said in a calm but alarmed tone.

A snarl tore through his throat once again, animalistic, terrifying. The trembling continued. His position was quite ferocious, like he was ready to spring and launch himself at Quil at the drop of a dime. He seemed like a bomb with a countdown clock. Any moment, he was going to detonate.

"Don't do it, Paul." Sam stepped towards Paul, trying to force the young guy to look at him. "It's not worth it." Sam seemed to incline his head in my direction. "Besides, need I remind you that we have an audience."

I furrowed my brows. _Me_? He wanted Paul to stop this because of _me?_ I wondered then if he'd let this go on if I wasn't here.

I heard Leah sigh beside me, as if it wasn't a big deal. As if she was just annoyed and it wasn't the first time something like this happened.

"Are they always like this?" I asked under my breath.

"Pretty much," she mumbled. "But then, that's just Paul for you."

She was right. This was the Paul I remembered, the Paul I knew. "Ugh," I grunted, disgusted. I was sure I was quiet. I didn't care to interfere although his temper was ridiculous to me and I had half the mind to run up there and tell him to get over it. Violence was never the answer.

As if he heard our exchange, Paul's eyes shot to mine. He seemed to pause—looking like he was evaluating my expression, which I was sure, was a frown, both revolted and disapproving.

And then suddenly his stance change, the tension in his body was fading, his locked muscles relaxing. He stood up from his earlier crouch. Turning back to my cousin, stretched his hand out to Quil. "I'd like my shirt back. _Please."_ His words were said through clenched teeth, his expression, like a dagger towards my little cousin, was full of "fuck-you."

Sam's voice shot out, deep and resounding. "Quil, give him back his sweat shirt."

He passed the shirt back with a frown as Paul reached out and snatched it from him. "God, you're such a baby."

"Quil," Sam chided.

"I'll forget you did that this time, punk." Paul warned. "Can't say you'd be safe next time."

"Paul, that's enough." His eyes switched to Quil. "As for you, Quil, you should know better."

Quil muttered to himself something about getting Paul back. Apparently he'd done something with Quil's clothes the other day.

Paul stood to face the ocean as he pulled his sweatshirt up over himself, and successfully hiding his body from me now.

Not that I cared.

But then I had to admit I was relieved. The last thing I needed was mixing the kid up with eye candy.

Paul was quiet, standing next to Jared, eyeballing Quil who snickered to himself as he put his own shirt back on next to Embry and Seth.

Leah turned to me. "Wanna walk with me for a while?"

"Where to?"

She smiled suddenly, at twinkle in her eye I hadn't seen in years.

"Tidepools?" we both said in unison. We'd always walked there, through our grade school days—all through high school, as our fathers fished. We were nature buffs, and we loved watching the tiny ecosystems that manifested in the pools created by high tide in the rocky shore.

Balancing the uneven floor of rock between the tiny pools of water, we studied them in silence. I, of course, whipped out my Nikon and took a few shots of the water, admiring contrast of the light sand against the dark rock. We stood for a small moment watching the tiny fish in water so clear, you could see everything they were doing. I couldn't help but smile. It'd been so long since I'd looked in one. I looked up at Leah and saw she wasn't quite smiling. There were so many questions in my head, and with both of us alone, yards and yards away from the rest, this was a good opportunity to voice them.

I cleared my throat, unsure of what reaction I would get. "So… what happened to Emily?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I motioned with my finger at my face.

"Ah," she muttered. "Accident… with… a bear. Or something."

"A bear? Or something?"

Her eyebrows scrunched together. "Yeah."

"That didn't sound too convincing."

"Well it was an animal," she said. "I don't know much." She kept her eyes on the horizon of the setting sun. Her tone ended the subject, and though I felt like she was leaving out information, I decided to drop it.

"So, what about college?" I asked, assuming school was a more comfortable subject. "Are you ever going back?"

She explained that she attended Peninsula College for a few semesters before putting an indefinite halt to her studies. She wasn't very sure when she'd be back. "I do think about going back to school, but maybe somewhere further away."

I nodded, totally understanding the desire to leave.

I watched her as we walked in silence for a moment. She didn't say anything further, and I wondered if it was my right to say what I was about to say, given the fact of my absence from her life in the past few years. Then I figured years gone compared to eighteen years of friendship before that should excuse it.

"I'm actually kind of surprised that you've stuck around." The sentence left my mouth in a soft voice, almost apologetic.

Her head tilted. "What? You thought I'd leave home?"

"Actually, yeah, I did." I had to admit it. She'd lost her man, and her father. It's what I would have done.

"Well, not everyone is like you, Raych."

I frowned, my eyes glaring at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I can't just pick up and leave like you and Becky did. Especially not now." The grief was in her eyes again and I knew she was implying her father.

"I know that, but I mean, to be here, with this crew, hanging with… _them_?"

She raised an eyebrow at me.

"_Him_. And _her_. I mean, isn't life hard enough already?"

Leah let out an exasperated sigh, calculating something as she looked into my eyes. "Look, it's not something that'll pass. It isn't a phase or anything temporary, so what choice do I have? They'll be together for the rest of their God damn lives."

"Wait… what?" I moved my head to try to look at her face as she dodged me. "Are they…?"

"Engaged? Yeah." She answered without looking at me, her eyes narrowing in a painful expression as she stared unfocused at the nearest tide pool.

"Whoa. Leah, I'm so, so sorry." _Wow, that Emily_, I thought. _What a hooker._ I didn't say it out loud, but the thought was hard to push away. She was still Leah's cousin, so I figured it best not to put my foot in my mouth. I watched as she rolled her eyes at my sympathy. "I had no idea."

She sighed, looking dejected. "It's whatever."

"So…"

"So, I'm gonna be a bridesmaid."

"Leah… nooo!"

"Shhh!" she exclaimed in a breath, her eyes darting from the other side were everyone stood and back to me. "These rocks have ears, so shut it!"

I took a much needed breath.

As she gathered that I calmed down, she shrugged her shoulders but shook her head. "What the hell else am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, Leah. Ever heard of the anti-drug slogan: Just say no?" My tone added the sarcasm.

She leaned back and showed me a scowl that had me cringe away from her. "Bitch, do you _really_ want to be smart with me right now?"

I gave an apologetic wince, though I knew Leah well enough to shrug off her colorful vocabulary and not be offended. "I'm sorry. But I can't see why you'd say yes. Why didn't you turn her down? Why can't you back out?"

"I can't," she mumbled. "I already said yes. Gave her my word."

"You don't need to." I groaned to myself. "I can't even believe she asked you to be her bridesmaid!" It was groaned to my teeth. "The nerve!"

She rolled her eyes. "No matter what, I'm still her cousin, even if we aren't best friends anymore. She's still blood."

"Uh, yeah… unfortunately." I couldn't hide my scrutiny as she held her chin up high while pacing in circles before me. She held every ounce of pride in her strut, but I knew inside she had to be falling apart. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

She stopped pacing. "Look, it took me a while to try to talk myself into being all right with the idea, and I don't really need _you_ to point out the fucked up part of this situation for me."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's fucked up enough that I don't need to be reminded. So when the dickhead marries my cousin, I will put the dress on, wear a fake smile, and hope she trips down the aisle on the way down."

I started to crack up. "_There_ she is!" I said.

"Look, backing out now would show a weakness that I refuse to show them. Saying no at all would've let people know I'm not over this—over _him_. I don't want that. I'm stronger than that, and I _will_ be able to stand with her that day. If she trips, I'll help her bitchass get up… maybe." She said the last bit with a corner of her lip curling up mischievously.

I beamed right back, folding my arms across my chest. "But you'll be cracking up on the inside."

She winked. "You know it."

We made our way back to the rest of the crowd after getting tired of the tiny pools. They'd set up camp in the area reserved for bonfires, starting a large one. Sam and Emily had arranged coolers of drinks and food nearby.

My concern for Leah was pretty short lived. As I observed her, she seemed at ease around her cousin and her ex, even though I knew the pain she had to be experiencing deep inside. Leah was strong, and could handle herself. And though I worried about her, I realized she didn't need protecting. Her posture was straight, and her chin was held high. I took a cue from that ease—that strength—and made my own effort not to notice their situation any further.

I sat next to her in front of the fire, the embers flying up to the sky. The crackle of the flames were a soundtrack to the laughter and conversation of the tribe's youngsters this summer evening.

But I had a nagging feelings. It was a strange sense, the source from almost the other side of the fire. I was being watched—I was sure of it—and I felt that pull again, that magnetic force, that turned my head in his direction.

Paul was sitting on the sand, his body facing the fire, a bottle of soda in his hand, the other holding his wrist so that his arms stayed wrapped around his legs. His colossal shoulders, covered in his navy sweatshirt, were hunched over his knees, his feet in blue and grey Nike Dunks.

Now only feet from me, much closer than he was earlier, my eyes memorized his face.

He was staring back at me, no apology his deep set, chocolate brown irises. Nope, his gape was without shame.

Glossy, jet black hair in a close cropped cut framed his perfectly smooth, russet complexion. His jaw line was a straight cut, parallel to the flat sand under his seat. His cheekbones were so defined, they casted shadows beneath them. His brow line was strong, leading into the perfect angle of his nose. His lips were full, and lovely, slightly parted as he breathed in and out from his mouth. The ferocity that his face held when he was angry at Quil wasn't there anymore. It was humble, soft.

I was dimly aware Emily stood up and walked over to the other side. "Time to start dinner," I heard her announce. She pulled out hot dog skewers and a bag of buns from the cooler they'd taken onto the beach earlier. It caused my eyes to flicker to her, only to land right back on Paul. She handed out the skewers to each of us for us to roast ourselves, followed by a pass of the bag of buns.

I felt a glowing heat as my eyes clung to his, the blood within me flowing in a rush of warmth. Even after the knowledge of who he was—after the disgust I had for his obvious temper that lead to possible violence—he left me breathless with one look.

Paul's stare continued. His mocha gaze, sheltered by long, thick, black lashes, was one of admiration. Though the stare was intense as it held mine, it was almost loving. Yet even with his gentle expression, there was a burning beneath it all. Something animal, completely hot and sensual.

Or maybe it was just me. And I needed to take a really cold shower.

"Paul, yoohoo," Jared said, waving a hotdog skewer in Paul's' face. "Beefy franks. You know you want some."

"Give it," Paul said, snatching the stick away from his best friend.

And the moment he released me from his gaze, I was able to turn away.

"So tell me about Becky's wedding," Leah requested. "I saw pictures on MySpace, but I'm sure it was something else to see in person."

"Yeah, it was beautiful," I began. As I continued to give Leah details of my sister's big day, could feel Paul's stare through the embers and flames. It took all of me to keep my eyes on Leah.

I answered Leah's questions about my visit to Hawaii. She had a curiosity about Solomon, Becky's husband, and I happily filled her in. She could tell that I approved of Solomon, and she seemed happy for Becky as well. As I filled her in, I was aware that Paul stepped out of his trance and stood up.

As we ate, Leah and I proceeded to talk about the beauty of Hawaii. The trials and tribulations of college. All the while I felt Paul's presence, his heat. Everyone was switching seats, socializing with each person. I stayed seated next to Leah. She may be strong, but I thought with me on her side and Sam with Emily, she wouldn't feel like a third wheel.

Jared came to sit next to me and listen about Hawaii. He shared stories as well; his older sister had moved to Cali, somewhere in Orange County.

I stiffened as Paul took a seat on the other side of Leah, just two spots away from me. I was aware that he'd consumed a good five hot dogs, carefully applying generous helpings of mustard and ketchup on the buns. I wasn't sure why I mentally kept count of his hotdog consumption, or why my mind even found it remotely interesting.

Meanwhile, I was on my second dog but couldn't finish.

"You gonna finish that?" Jared asked me, his hand pointed at the half eaten dog.

I frowned, a little disgusted as his hand reached out in front of me.

His eyes looked at me expectantly. "Because I will, if you wont."

"Take it," I resigned.

Seth laughed. "You'll have to excuse him, he's lost his manners." But I watched as there preparation for dinner was like clockwork, everyone passing the mustard and the relish, Emily and Sam pulling out new bags of buns and skewers of dogs.

"You guys work like a well oiled machine," I noted as everyone got busy making their little sandwiches. "Very systematic."

Leah nodded, but it was Paul who intercepted a response. "Yeah. It isn't our first time to organize a get together like this."

I froze at the sound of his voice. It was deep, throaty, and it did things to my body that I refused to display in my expression. Angry, like he was a few hours ago at Quil, he was terrifying. But now, the tone was smooth, and velvet. I turned to him, though I felt awkward. "You do this often?"

"All the time," he replied, before stuffing his mouth the last of his dog. After swallowing, he amended with, "It's sort of become a family, all of us. We're pretty tight."

I took a swig of my water as I faced the fire. I could feel his eyes on me as Emily insisted that I grab another skewer from her. When I tried to decline, she persisted. I took it reluctantly.

Leah's phone went off, catching my attention. She got up and walked away, taking the call closer to the water.

"Need me to roast you another hotdog?" Paul offered as I stared after Leah, his voice smooth as silk.

I looked at him. "No, that's okay."

"Really," he insisted. "I toast a mean dog. Anyone here would attest to that." He held his hand out towards my skewer.

At his statement I looked up, assessing the expressions of those around us. Jared and Seth were nodding in agreement. Leah was rolling her eyes, sitting next to her brother this time.

"We can split it if you're too full," Paul suggested, scooting a bit in my direction.

My body tensed. "Uh, sure." I shrugged in an effort to look casual, handing it over to him.

I watched as he spun the hotdog around evenly in the flames, his eyes switching to me once in a while. Why did it thrill me to have him do something for me? I wasn't sure, but it did. He seemed pleased to do it for me as well, the side of his mouth curling up into a small half smile.

I grinned a little bit, without showing my teeth.

He hummed the tune from the new Ne-Yo song as he cooked. When he pulled away from the fire, he held the dog in front of me by the skewer. We split it evenly in timid silence.

I took a bite, and it was toasted perfection; and browned just the right amount, yet plump and juicy on the inside. I nodded as I swallowed. "You're right. I guess you are pretty good at that."

He made a throaty chuckle. "You should see what I do with a marshmallow," he managed to mumble with a mouth full of food.

The statement wasn't sexual at any rate, but I still felt a tingle between my legs at his voice. "Too bad we don't have s'mores."

"Actually, Kim's coming. She's bringing the Hershey bars and the Graham crackers. We've got marshmallows over there." I followed the point of his finger over to one of the coolers with three bags of fluffy white goodness on top.

"Oh." I tried not to wonder who this Kim was, and who she might be to Paul. I knew he didn't have any sisters. Was it a girlfriend?

"I can toast your marshmallows for you, too." Judging by the manner of his grin, I deduced only one thing.

He was flirting.

But then who was Kim?

As if to answer my question, another cell phone went off with a TuPac Ringtone. Jared, sitting three people over, picked up his phone, "Hey babe. All right, I'll see you soon." Shutting his phone, Jared looked up at Emily. "Kim'll be here in a few."

So then Kim wasn't Paul's girlfriend, but Jared's. Why was I was secretly relieved?

"See," Paul said, with a big smile. "One batch of S'mores, coming soon." He nudged me playfully, and though I shrunk back in response, I couldn't ignore the sudden pleasure I got from it.

I contemplated this.

I was only here for a visit. In two or three weeks, I'd probably be in Seattle, away from here. Living my own life working for a top Seatown IT company as an Engineer. I probably wouldn't see these faces for another year. Maybe even longer.

So what was the harm in indulging in one evening of an innocently mild flirtation with a young guy who's body was like a gift from God?

Slowly, I let my muscles relax, prepared to bask in his attention.

There was a nervous energy about him, his confidence seeming to waver as he regarded me. He extended his colossal hand in to my direction hesitantly. "Paul," he said.

"Oh, yeah." His hand was so large, it should've made me nervous. I reached my hand out in response anyway. "Rachel."

But the moment our two palms connected, a glowing heat seemed to transfer, flowing from his body to mine. His large fingers curled around my hand, and I could almost feel a sizzle of electricity at his touch.

Awkwardly, I yanked my hand away, shifting the camera bag that hung protectively from my neck so that it leaned on my hip.

When he chuckled, it was a nervous sound. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know your name. I… know who you are."

I looked up at him instantly, confused. "So then why did y—"

"I wasn't sure if you remembered mine," he interjected.

"Oh." The nervousness was adorable, and made him seem vulnerable to me, which was an oxymoron, considering the size and his obvious physical strength. It was like an impossible charm that I couldn't help but respond to.

"Can I see what you've captured so far?" he asked, his hand extending to my camera.

"I don't know," I said. "Um, sure, but,"—I slipped my camera from its case and handed it over cautiously—"please be very careful." I was sure he wouldn't be able to figure it out. SLRs were just tricky that way.

He studied the buttons and figured out how put the camera on display mode. As he flipped through my memory card, he smiled. "These are some great shots." He already seemed to calm down, his nerves slipping away.

"Thanks." I said quickly, suddenly remembering that I'd taken a few shots of him. I reached for it. "Now can I have it back?"

He swung his arms away so I couldn't get the camera back. Pausing, he looked back at the display, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

I sighed. I was sure I knew which photo he was looking at.

Suddenly he lifted up the camera and snapped a shot of me.

"Stop!" I said, blocking my face from the shot. "What are you doing?"

"Making the photographer the subject," he replied with a laugh.

"Give it back," I demanded.

"Geez," he replied, handing it back to me. "My bad. Won't happen again."

His proximity to my body made me anxious. It took me a while to muster the courage to look at him, but no matter how nervous he may have been a moment ago, he stared at me with the confidence that an older man would have. I couldn't get past the fact that he was, as I knew him, five years my junior, yet his physique and the lines around his eyes made for easily a twenty-six year old.

"Hey there, Kim," I heard someone say. Jared's girlfriend showed up with grocery bags, and after saying hi to everyone and kissing Jared on the cheek, he introduced her to me. They excused themselves and walked away together into a private side of the beach, leaving me with Paul.

There was an open curiosity in his eyes as he looked like he wanted to ask me a million questions. "So why don't you come home more often?"

I gave a small, forced grin. "Been busy," I quickly answered. _Avoiding this place. Running from pain. Escaping the drowning, empty feeling of grief and loss._

He nodded. "Ah right. You rushed through school. What were you like, doing double the class load?"

"You can say that." I shouldn't be surprised that he knew. The reservation wasn't a large one, and everyone knew everyone's business.

His eyes narrowed with curiosity. "But doesn't school let out? You have breaks, right? Holidays? Summer?"

"Yeah, but I worked through them." It was all an effort not to come back. Everything about home reminded me of Mom. As much as I missed my baby brother and my dad, my mom had been mine and my sister's best friend.

Becky's words came to the forefront of my mind. _You're stronger than I am._

That was total B.S. If I was really that strong I would've been able to stomach coming home. Stronger then my twin, maybe. But strong on my own? Hardly.

Paul's deep rasp cut through my rationale. "Rachel?"

"Yeah," I said, shaking myself out of it, as I realized he was waving his hand in front of my face.

"You were in your own little world just then."

Warmth rushed to my cheeks at a sudden blush. "Sorry."

"'S okay." He studied me with his dark gaze.

Something burned beneath the stare that had me tingling below my waist. Warmer. I was suddenly getting warmer.

He's_ Jacob's _friend, I reminded myself. You were his_ babysitter._

Casting the warm feeling aside, I concentrated on the reasoning behind the stare. My eyes tightened as I tipped my head to the side. "What?"

His awareness of me was intense, the logical half of me uncomfortable. The other half—well, let's just face it. I was liking this way too much.

Shaking whatever was going on behind that stare, he elbowed me playfully. "Just tryin' to figure you out, is all."

I laughed to scoff at his statement. "I'm nothing to figure out."

His thick brows scrunched together. "I beg to differ on that."

"You're not at all as I remember you." It came out before I could stop it, but it was the truth. Rowdy Paul. Immature, cocky, troublemaker Paul. This was not the same person. At least, not at this moment. It was like he did a complete one eighty from the tantrum he through earlier this afternoon.

He sighed, as if taking in my statement, his eyes almost rolling. "Oh, boy. Never a good thing." He propped himself as he sat Indian-style to turn towards me full on. "All right. Lay it on me."

I turned to him, as if open for the challenge. I was dimly aware that sitting across like this, our knees were touching, but I was up for embarrassing this kid. Or at least the logical part of me was. "You were the annoying kid who I always saw in the principal's office."

He gave me a face like I was from another planet. He laughed it off his head throwing back, as one of his hands went to his chest.

I couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

He straightened up immediately and found composure. "No I wasn't."

"Um, yes you were." I quickly corrected, with a snigger.

One of his brows arched high. "How would you know?" His tone was slightly defensive.

I sighed. "Because I had TA duty for the middle school sector's principal's office my senior year, that's why."

He suddenly seemed embarrassed. "Oh."

"Yeah," I said, a bit smug. "Oh," I echoed, mocking him.

"I can't remember being there more than once or twice…" he denied. "Or for what reason."

"Hmm," I said, my voice jokingly cocky. "Fights. Talking back to a teacher. Repeated tardiness. Skipping classes. Bullying other students. Need I go—"

"All right, all right. I get it," he said, his voice cutting through my sentence.

I opened my mouth hesitantly.

"What?" he asked.

"I have more," I admitted.

His eyebrows lifted. "There's more?"

I laughed. "Yes."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he sighed. "Bring it."

"I used to baby sit you when you were ten. It was for one summer. And one day, you were being annoying and upset that I wasn't paying attention to you. You got so upset that you put gum in my hair."

He covered his face with his hands in mortification. "Oh, God."

"And thanks to you I had to cut my hair. It took almost two years to grow back out to the way it was."

His head shot up from his hands, meeting my eyes with horror. "_I _did that?"

I cocked an eyebrow and flashed a cheeky grin. "Yes."

"I can't believe you remember that." He shook his head, rubbing his chin. "I really don't recall—"

"I remember a lot of things." I observed his uncomfortable expression, his face and ears growing pink and then red with embarrassment. "Do you not remember?"

"Not really," he lied, though it was a pathetic attempt. The flush was there, an added layer of warmth over his copper skin.

"Well judging by how red your face and ears are getting, I would think you do."

He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God!"

I laughed pretty hard, throwing my head back, my hand on my belly.

He put his hands down, glaring at me playfully. "That's not funny."

"Well, no, it wasn't at the time," I agreed, nodding my head. "I was pretty upset."

His hand went to his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief. "I'm so sorry."

I jumped as his hand shot to my thigh, right above my knee, his fingers curled into my flesh.

He removed it suddenly after I had retracted my leg. "Oh, sorry," he said out of politeness, though it seemed he wasn't too apologetic about touching me.

I turned my body back around to face the fire, tilting my head the opposite direction to hide my smile. What the hell? Why was I giddy from his flirting? Had it been that long for me?

My mind shot briefly remembering the six foot tall, sandy-blond haired Pi Kappa Phi mistake I'd made my freshman year. And the five-seven platinum blonde Alpha Omnicom Pi that I caught him on top of in his dorm the earlier part of my sophomore year. A broken heart over Darren Marks was clearly the reason I'd stopped dating. I'd sworn off boys since then and poured every ounce of my energy into my studies.

Paul slowly turned to the fire again, seeming a bit reluctant as he did so. The movement brought me back into the present.

I hadn't noticed the time in all the conversation we had. He'd asked me so much about myself, completely intrigued by my answers. It had all seemed strange, yet I enjoyed his attentiveness, his willingness to learn about me. He'd asked even about my advanced program at Washington U, seeming sincerely impressed by my ability to graduate early, and with honors.

This wasn't real. Men usually pretended to be interested. It was all in an effort to get into a girl's pants. Yet he seemed so genuinely interested that I wasn't quite sure what this was. Maybe he was just a good actor.

He made a pillow out of his sweat shirt and laid his head against it, his back on the bare sand, his gaze aimed up at the sky. His eyes lingered on one spot, like he was watching television.

"What are you looking at?" I asked out of a curiosity I didn't think I had.

His eyes switched to me. "Huh?"

"You're staring pretty intently up there." I leaned back on my elbows to follow the direction of his stare. "Like there's something going on there in the clouds."

"For once, there aren't many clouds tonight. Rare for this part of Washington, ain't it? The rest of the sky is so visible."

"I... didn't notice that before." For a moment, I thought he was trying to use some pick-up line, but the way his eyes were so intent on one spot in the sky told me different.

"Anyway," he continued, "there's_ always _something going on up there." His tone added the "Well, duh" in the sentence.

My nose wrinkled in response. "Please tell me you're not some astronomy geek looking for UFOs."

He chortled. "I'm many things. A geek is not one of them."

"Okay… so what is it?"

He shrugged casually. "Star spirits."

I paused. I hadn't heard that term in quite some time… not since the time of my mother. There had always been a small pocket of tribes people who believed in such things… souls and spirits that float far into the sky, taking on some form to watch over their loved ones—the form of big spheres of light, only visible in the dark.

Stars.

My mother would tell us about star spirits when we were in grade school on special nights where she'd climb into bed between my sister and I. "Oh," I said quietly, fighting the thought of my mother again.

"My mom used to tell me stories about them a lot when I was younger. That one over there, that one is my favorite."

I turned to look at his face for a moment, a little surprised that he basically said what I was thinking—that he had the same memory of his own mother.

His finger pointed to the sky. "Right up there."

I followed the line of his arm out to his fingertip, but couldn't figure which twinkle of light he was talking about. "Which one?"

"It's the one at the end of the big dipper," he directed. "Right at the tip of its panhandle."

I didn't know many constellations, but the big dipper wasn't hard to find. And then I saw it, the bright star. "Big. And… pretty."

"Yeah," he said. "It is. Me and my mom's star."

"Ah." I didn't mean for my voice crack when I'd opened my mouth, but it did. My mother clearly had believed in them, but we never got as far as picking stars out. I wrestled with the recollection uncomfortably.

The shift in my position caught his attention, and Paul's head turned to me. I felt his stare and shrunk into myself.

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he read my face.

"Sorry," he mumbled softly. "Did I say something wrong?"

My eyes flickered to him before I sat straight up again and looked down at my hands on my lap. "No," I breathed. "I just… forgot about star spirits."

"Children's folklore, I know," he said with chuckle, sounding embarrassed. "But the memory of it… makes me happy, for lack of a better term."

I nodded silently, beginning to realize that Paul himself was without a mother. Chris Lahote was diagnosed with breast cancer in the early nineties, and died three years after the diagnosis. I'd forgotten that.

"Are you all right?" Paul was sitting upright now, studying me once again.

I knew I needed to change the topic before I fell apart and embarrassed myself. "I'm okay. Just a little parched."

"I'll get you a soda," he volunteered, up on his feet in one fluid motion.

I shook my head. "It's okay, I can get it." I got ready to get up, but he waved for me to keep seated.

"I gotchu," he reassured, already strolling toward the cooler. "Coke? Sprite? Mountain Dew? Water?"

"Water's good," I said.

He handed me a cold bottle and sat down, a new bottle of Mountain Dew in his hand. He took a long pull of his drink as I took a dainty sip of my Dasani.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It really is a shame you don't come home more often."

I turned to him, a little shy. "Why's that?" _Shit, why did I care what he thought?_

"Well, I'm sure it would make ol' Billy happier. Plus, LaPush… needs more… good people."

I lifted a brow at him. "Good people?"

"Goodhearted, gentle, people," he elaborated. "There aren't that many people on the reservation anymore. And we aren't always blessed with the best of who is left. Present company and their families excluded, of course. We lose them all to the big city."

I sucked in a dramatic, deep, guilty breath, raising my hand. "Guilty."

He chuckled. "Big city girl, huh? Doesn't surprise me. Well, I guess I don't blame you though. It's not that exciting out here in the Forks area."

I giggled along with him. "You've got that right."

"And I don't imagine it's easy to come home after losing someone when home is all that reminds you of that person. And then to get here and find out your brother's gone MIA isn't exactly helping." As soon as the words left his mouth, it looked as if he regretted it. His gentle tone implied my mother.

I looked away, helpless against the action. It was rather presumptuous for him to jump to that conclusion, but I couldn't argue that he'd hit it right on the money. I knew I should be upset at his statement, and normally I would've denied it. Somehow, with him, I couldn't. He seemed to know not to press on for a reply, which I was thankful for.

I could feel his gaze as I chewed over his last account. "Hey, look. I've upset you. I'm sorr—"

I shook my head and lifted my hand again to silence him.

He was quiet, turning towards the fire, but still keeping an eye on me. His expression was careful, seeming to brace himself for the possibility of my wrath—a wrath that didn't feel like was ever coming.

After a long moment, I was able to respond. "Perceptive," I said.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, his gaze finally lifting away from me completely and switching absently to the crackling fire pit. "Wow."

"What?"

His large shoulders shrugged. "I've never been called that."

"Well… you are."

"I guess," he muttered. "But, only with you." His sight turned once more at me, his eyes burning more than they had been earlier.

I looked away, unable to stand the intensity of his stare. Suddenly my heart was racing.

There was a long pause, a long stretch of quiet that had me looking up towards him. That's when I realized he'd lifted one of his hands towards my upper arm. The back of his fingers came in contact with my skin, and he brushed me with a feather-light caress from my elbow to my shoulder and back, his head turning towards me.

It was too late for me to move away, but with slight horror I realized I craved it. Goosebumps met the rough skin of his fingers, my flesh reacting to him. It was turning on all sorts of neurons in my brain. My body was beginning to quiver in time with my racing heart.

He leaned forward, in my space. He was hot, and not just in looks. He was _literally_hot—steaming, scorching—like he had a fever. I could feel it mere inches from him, but I found that I didn't mind it. In fact, I wanted it close to me.

My pulse increased, racing brutally within my chest. Even though I knew somewhere in the back of my mind I shouldn't be letting this happen, a larger part of me was curious… and just… in need of it. Our lips made a very soft contact, just as light as the touch of his fingers. It sent shivers down my spine.

He pulled away for a moment, his eyes opening slowly as I opened mine. He smiled something sexy, and it had me smiling back at him.

Paul's lips found me again. They moved hesitantly, experimentally. My physicality had no trouble accommodating him, my lips willing to follow. My body had detached itself from reason—from the very part of my mind that still remembered how young he was. How weird this was. How illegal this could be. How undeniably wrong this was.

And then his mouth opened, and I felt the wet warmth over my own mouth, his lips opening mine apart. They moved surely, confidently. They grew more urgent against mine, and I answered with the same urgency. The need from earlier, the heat that sparked in my body, engulfed within me like ocean water rolling and building into a large wave. As if reading the strange emotion within me, his lips moved in a frantic, feverish pace.

Part of my mind tracked his hand as it dusted up my arm, flattened at my shoulder, slid up my neck, and cradled my face. My body answered with a shiver, more goose bumps rising in the surface of my skin. His warm palm was at my cheek, his fingers threading through my long tresses. They pushed my head forward, into him so that our kiss would get deeper. The goose bumps multiplied.

I moaned into his mouth, and his lips began to move faster. Hungrier.

It was easy to get lost in this moment, the taste of his mouth, the passionate movement of his lips, and the feel of his soft, velvet tongue brushing lightly against mine.

"Incoming!" someone yelled, and just like that, reality hit me like a sucker punch to my face.

I ripped apart from his lips just as a volleyball bounced passed us.

I'd just kissed the young boy, my little brother's friend, in the mouth. The same boy I used to baby-sit. The same young kid who'd stuck gum into my hair. The underage boy.

I stood up and realized a few of the boys had been watching, their faces aghast, and eyes wide. I saw Leah in my peripheral vision, her lovely features full of disappointment and revulsion.

The horror of who I just kissed crept into my consciousness.

My cheeks and ears burned with the flush of red that had more to do with embarrassment rather than the previous moment's sexual need. "I've got to go," I muttered.

"Rachel, wait!" I heard Paul call after me.

"Rachel," I heard brisk steps on my heels, Leah's voice closing in on me. "Rachel, come back. I'm sorry."

Mortified, I paid both of them no mind. I was flustered, with burning red cheeks and ears. In a hurry, I ran to my car, tripping into the driver's seat with no grace what-so-ever.

"Rachel, please, don't leave," Leah pleaded, putting her hand on my car door.

I kept my eyes on my steering wheel. "I promised my dad I'd be home early. It's almost ten."

"Rachel— "

"I'll call you tomorrow," I cut her off, not listening to her as she kept insisting that I stay. The words weren't registering with my head buzzing over my embarrassment. "We'll do lunch, watch a movie or something." I spoke in a hurry, shutting the door on her, and drove the hell out of there.

As I drove away, many of them were looking after me, but one person stood out from the rest. Paul stood, facing my direction, the large silhouette of his body illuminated by the orange glow of the bonfire. His face was a shadow, but I didn't need to see his face to know he was staring after me as I left.

As I gripped the steering wheel, I fought the magnetic pull—the desire to stay. To be with him.

God, I just made out with _Jacob's friend_.

Resolved I'd made a mistake, my foot pushed harder on the gas, sending me further down the road and away from the shoreline. Away from _him._

Pull or no pull, I wasn't going to let this happen again.

* * *

End notes:

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Thanks for reading!

Be sure to follow me on twitter at **achelle131** for updates, or find me in the twilighted forum under "achelledenalicullen".

For teasers and/or discussion on Hungry Like the Wolf visit HLW's thread on Twilighted Forums under the Breaking Dawn section.

For teasers on my Emmett/Rosalie fics _Vanity and Patience/Strength and Remorse __you may find the V&P thread under Pretwilight__._


	3. Chapter 3: Evasion

Thanks to my beta: LauraWeasely

**Playlist:**

Bruno Mars – Just the Way You Are

Avril Lavigne - Things I'll Never Say

Lenny Kravits – Can't Get You Out of My Mind

Sara Bareilles – Come Round Soon

Adele – Daydreamer

**Disclaimer:** I'm not from the Forks area. In fact I've never been to Washington State, so please bear with me about my location details and environmental descriptions.

**Tip:** If you want the latest as soon as possible, I post all my chapters to TWILIGHTED(dot)net DAYS before I post them anywhere else (FFn and MyVampFiction). You can find me under achelle131 on Twilighted.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Evasion**

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_I can never re-live this moment without excitement._

_I sit in the kitchen, my eager hands practically tearing at the seams of the box of my new camera. As I pull out the heavy weight of the camera out, my heart reels with anticipation. My fingers tremble anxiously as I attach its lens._

_I'm shaking with exhilaration. I have to do some new test shots right away._

"_We're going to get some groceries," my mother tells me, kissing me on my forehead. "Your father and I will be back soon."_

"_Okay," I respond absentmindedly as I fiddle with my camera, not even giving them a glance as they walk out the door._

_But I let my eyes scan my surroundings to look for something to photograph, and I begin to recall the way the cloud-filtered sun hit kitchen table through the windows. Suddenly hit by a strong sense of déjà vu, I turn, my eyes scanning the house—my brother, my sister._

_Suddenly, I feel sick. This moment is oddly familiar. Something in my gut is screaming that this is wrong. _

_I look at my siblings going about their business as usual. But something is different; there is a change in the air._

_I know what I am doing when this moment passes, when this happened the first time. Oh, God._ _"Don't get into the car!" I try to scream once again, for a millionth time, but no sound comes out._

_I drop my camera, and it shatters into millions of pieces, but at this moment it doesn't matter. _

_Like always, I have to stop them. Even though it never ends well, I can't help but fight. I have to fight._

_I run to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it won't open. "Stop!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "Wait! Don't go! You can't leave!"_

_I turn to my siblings, but no one hears me. Rebecca is twirling her hair around her finger and laughing flirtatiously at the voice on the other line. Jacob has Wolverine in his hand, facing off with Magneto in the other._

"_Help me!" I exclaim towards them. "Help me open the door! We have to stop them!"_

_But, like many times I've experienced this before, they can't hear me; continuing on playing and talking and laughing._

_My fists pound helplessly at the door and the windows, my mouth stretching out.. I try the door again, using my whole body this time, pulling with my hands, with my weight, using my feet for leverage._

_Somehow I feel that someone else is here with me. Someone can hear me, but I don't see him. I just feel him._

_I finally break the door free and run out of the house into the rain, the car is a distant dot down the road. I know—I know within my gut—what news will be returning to us… and who will not be._

"_Mom!" My legs try to run after the car, and all I can see is her waving from the rear window._

_Suddenly warm arms grab hold of me—strong, heavy. "We have to stop them!"_

"_Everything will be okay," the voice says from behind me. It was deep, smooth, assuring._

"_No!" I scream, unable to concentrate on that assuring voice in the frantic need to get my mother to safety. "Let me go! I have to stop my mother!"_

_I stare helplessly after the bright smile on her beautiful face, slightly deformed from the streams of water the rain caused on the rear window. _

"_Mom, no!" I fight the arms around me. I can't let them go. Why won't he let me stop them? "Let me go! My mom! I have to help my Mom."_

"_Rachel, baby, you can't change fate."_

_The arms let go, the large hands grabbing hold of my shoulders, turning me to face him. _

"_You have to let me go! I have to stop them!" I choke out, my tears streaming, sobs erupting from me._

_His eyes are the color of chocolate, his dark brows arched in concern. "I know," he says. "But everything's going to be all right. I promise."_

"_My Mom," I croak. "I have to stop my mom."_

"_We'll get through this," he whispers, touching his forehead to mine. The massive hands come to either side of my head, cradling my face. "You're not alone. I won't leave you."_

"_But my Mom," I protest, turning in the direction of my car. "I miss my Mom."_

"_I know you do." His thumbs rub gently against my cheeks. It feels nice, and I begin to calm down. My sobs are slowing, the twisting pain in my gut still present, but I feel secure._

_But then I realize he's actually interacting with me. "You hear me," I say, looking into his eyes again. They're beautiful— irises like liquid, with specks of toffee colored light. "No one ever hears me when I scream."_

_Through his expression of worry, his lips curl up in a smile. "I hear you," he assures me. "I hear you, and I know you miss her."_

_I shut my eyes, the last of my tears brimming and spilling over my cheeks. "I do."_

"_Look at me, Rachel."_

_My eyes open to see this man, and I can't place who he is. Somehow, though, there's a feeling of tightness in my chest that assures me that I do._

"_I will help you," he promises me, his hands sliding back, fingers digging into my hair. "You'll never have to face this alone."_

_I nod because his tone is soothing; his warm touch is undeniably comforting._

_He brings my face to his and I let him kiss me. My eyes shut, and I instantly moan as our lips meet. I lose myself in the warmth of his kiss, the gentle yet burning movement of his lips, the velvety texture of his tongue. This doesn't dull the pain I feel, but the loneliness is withering away._

_He pulls back and smiles, and I take in the perfect nose, the chiseled cheekbones, the square jaw. As I drink in the perfect russet skin, the shiny, black hair, and the coffee eyes, one name comes to mind:_

_Paul._

* * *

Like a million mornings before this one, my eyes flew open. I swallowed as my hand came to the column of my throat.

Was that really a dream? As always, I felt a swirling sense of unease in my stomach over reliving the last moments with my mother, but something was new. There was a stirring from within me—an aching in my chest for the strong arms, and that smooth, deep voice. I longed for it. Yearned for it.

I shut my eyes, and in the privacy of my own thoughts, I let my mind flood with images of him. I recalled the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch, and the taste of his mouth.

And in this dream, he was like a soothing balm to my grief. To my soul, even.

Was that really Paul? And why the hell was I yearning for him the way I was?

Reality crept into my thoughts, and I realized I needed to shake this very yearning off.

It was just a dream.

I began to recollect the events from Saturday night—meeting Paul, talking to him, and then kissing his lips. Making out with him so shamelessly in front of everyone. I'd gone home and straight into my old room. Even when my dad asked if I was all right, I said nothing about what happened and just asked to be left alone.

I was sweating underneath the covers, so I threw them on the floor. I stretched my back, reaching above me with my arms. The air mattress sucked, but I just couldn't find it in me to sleep in my brother's bed. Yes it was my old room, but the bed was his. Though I slept in his room at the moment, I still crashed on the floor.

I stared at my brother's Volkswagen Calendar that hung on the right side of the room. The day was Monday, August 7th, 2006.

Had I really spent a day hiding in the house from everyone in LaPush? Had Saturday night really happened?

Our house wasn't so big and I could hear my dad in the kitchen from the room. I could tell he was using the oven judging by the sound of a pan sliding on a rack. I sat up slowly and switched on my MacBook.

I pulled out the disk from my Nikon and uploaded the photos from my camera, something I routinely did on weekend mornings. Without school and without a job, this early Monday was just like any other weekend.

As I reviewed the shots for color-correction and processing in Photoshop, I'd forgotten that I'd taken some photos at the beach. Now looking at my disk, I realized I took over a hundred from that day.

Systematically, I opened up each file, fixing the brightness and contrast of every still—adjusting the levels of color. I paused at one that caught my eye. The best shot of the night was one of the boys roughhousing. It was a great action shot—one of a series taken in continuous mode. However, as I zoomed in to inspect it carefully, _he_ was there.

I swallowed hard.

I remembered snapping this series of shots that afternoon, not even intending to get him in this particular image. Apparently, I had. Paul was behind Embry and Jared, staring directly into the camera. Within the depth of field, his face was blurred, but even so, I seemed know him anywhere.

As I flipped to the next shot, it was the reverse, with the focus on him and the boys on the foreground fuzzy. A shiver went down my spine at the force of his chocolate gaze, which was crazy given that it was just a photograph. My heart began to race.

I closed the file and flipped through more. Leah giving me the evil eye with her hand blurred while blocking the camera, Seth posing like he was in GQ, Quil and Embry running for the ball.

I hit next and there it was—the photo that shouldn't have been my favorite. It was a close up of Paul's profile, laughing. My heart swelled up within me, and my chest grew tight. His eyes were warm and friendly, turned toward the horizon on the sea. My hand went to my chest, sliding up to my throat and I gulped again. I hadn't seen his face in close to forty-eight hours. Why did it feel like I was seeing the sun for the first time? Why did I secretly want to save this as my desktop's background image?

A knock at the bedroom door sent me slamming the laptop shut and jumping off the air mattress.

I went to get the door, and as it swung, the smell of sugary cinnamon wafted with the door's breeze. There was my dad facing me, his long, shiny black hair in a neat ponytail. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

I sighed in relief. "No problem."

"Come eat with me," he said. "I made your favorite."

"Cinnamon rolls?"

He beamed at me. "Just out of the oven."

"Sure," I answered with a smile. "Twist my arm, will ya?"

He laughed, as I joined him in the kitchen for amazing Pillsbury goodness iced with cream cheese frosting.

"Any plans for this weekend?"

"Fishing on Saturday," he said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "And then I'll probably go to Harry's in the evening, if you wanted to come along."

"Maybe," I nodded. I hadn't seen Sue Clearwater since years before Harry's death. I probably should pay her some respect. "How about Sunday? What are your plans then?"

He took a long drink of his juice, and looked at me as he put his glass down. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "I'm going to Bella's wedding."

"You are?" I asked. I shouldn't be shocked. Charlie was his best friend. He had every right to go to his best friend's daughter's wedding. However, I couldn't help but feel like it was a betrayal to my brother.

"Why do you look so surprised?"

"I just—" I began, but changed my mind. I knew we'd go in circles discussing my brother. "Nothing."

He furrowed his brows. "What is it?"

I was hesitant to bring it up, because I knew it was useless. My father would dismiss my concerns like he's done the last few days. But as he looked at me with concern, I answered anyway. "Jake," I admitted. "I'm still worried about Jake."

He reached across the table, placing his hand on mine. "I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know. You've said that already."

"Rachel," he rebuked lightly, "just trust me on this."

He watched as I looked away, absently cutting my roll with a fork and stared into space. "Soon isn't happening fast enough."

"He's broken hearted, but obviously, she wasn't the one for him. Things will be different once he finds the one. He's learning right now. I wouldn't have preferred that he left but if this is his way of dealing, we can't force him to stay."

"You've given this much thought, I see," I told him, looking up at his face, searching his wise, hopeful eyes.

He nodded. "I have. I'm hoping that he gains some new perspective out of life from this experience. Your brother clearly loves with his whole heart, and that will make for a great man. It'll only make him stronger from this point on."

_Let's hope so,_ I thought to myself, but I dropped the subject, drowning my worries in sticky cinnamon goodness.

As promised, I called Leah after breakfast and invited her to lunch and a movie. Maybe even dinner. I was a bit nervous to see her, considering Saturday night's events. Thankfully she couldn't do anything today, so we made plans for Tuesday night. I was all right with that though, hoping that time would erase some memories from her mind. I didn't have it in me to discuss the kiss with Paul.

Ugh.

My dad and I headed to the grocery store after breakfast. We were running low on bread and milk, and I wanted to replenish the cleaning supplies. As I perused the aisles at Ron's Food Mart for different products the house needed, someone at the cashier caught my eye. I recognized the towering height, the close-cropped 'do, and the wide shoulders, and my stomach fell to the floor.

He turned to put some items on the counter from his basket, and I felt a flood of relief. The profile didn't match the one in the picture I so admired earlier.

But that didn't extinguish the flood of butterflies in my stomach, or the thunderous beating of my heart.

It was Jared, and I knew with Jared, his best friend wouldn't be far behind.

I immediately crouched down and bowed my head in an effort to hide myself. I began to scan the different aisles, my head turning every which way, paranoid that he was here. I tried to calm myself down. Maybe he wasn't here. Maybe he and his BFF weren't so joined at the hip. I was annoyingly a little excited at the possibility of seeing him again, though most of me dreaded it.

Suddenly, I bumped into someone carrying two bags of drinks, both of us reacting right away. "I'm so sorry—"

"Yo, watch where you're—"

But before either of us could utter another word, our eyes met and it was over.

The strong eyebrows. The masculine line of his jaw. The softness of his youthful, friendly eyes within the lines of his impossibly aged features. Rugged. Gorgeous.

I was taken back to Saturday night… the flash of memory. The fiery warm skin. The fingers combing through my tresses and digging into my scalp , pushing me into his face. The kiss deepening, lips moving frantically against each other.

"Rachel," he breathed, with an arms load of sodas and Corona bottles in plastic bags.

"Uh…" I stuttered for a good moment, nothing coherent coming out of my mouth. Like a fool. I'd been rendered speechless many times in my life, but never to the point of dumbfoundedness. Not like this, at least.

"Paul," I heard my father say from behind me. "How are you?" He put a package of bacon and a carton of eggs into our basket.

"Billy," Paul said, shaking himself out of his own daze. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"Anything new?" I heard my dad ask as they both walked away from me and toward the bread aisle together.

"A bit but not too much," Paul muttered, before dipping his voice even lower in volume. "Sam says…"

I began to absentmindedly handle the apples in the produce section. Their discussion was too muffled from where I was standing to make out. Not that I cared to hear what they were talking about. Nothing could have been that interesting. All I could think of was _God, this town was entirely too small for its own good._

They returned to me, a loaf of Wonder whole wheat in my father's hand, as well as a bag of English muffins.

"Nice seeing you again, Rachel," Paul said, his voice silky and soft, his smile small. Nervous. Anxious.

"Yeah," I choked. "Sure." I turned away, feeling my cheeks burn.

His mouth opened again, like he wanted to say something more.

I began to tremble, my heart rate pounding behind my ears. Whatever he had to say, I didn't care to hear it; especially not in front of my dad. I was trying not to draw attention to the awkwardness—hoping my dad couldn't read that something happened between this young man and me.

"Paul, come on," Jared urged from outside the store, ready to leave. "I want to get home and catch some sleep."

"All right already, damn," Paul groaned, shooting Jared a dirty look before turning back to us. "I'll see you both later." He began to walk away.

_Not if I could help it,_ I thought.

"Uh, Paul," my dad called, sending Paul spinning around to turn back to us.

"Yes, Billy?"

"I assume the beer is for your _father_, right?"

"Uh… yeah," Paul clearly lied. "Sure. Yes, sir." He cleared his throat. "Bye."

My dad laughed, his head shaking.

I fought the urge to look up and watch him leave. I was once again drawn to him, wanting to follow him wherever he went.

After they left, we headed for the cashier.

My father seemed to study me. "What's with you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"You're usually so friendly. You seemed a bit standoff-ish. Almost snobby."

I didn't look at him. I just put the goods on the counter for the cashier to ring up. _If only you knew_, I thought.

"Do you not like him?"

"No. He's fine," I responded. "It's nothing. Nothing about him," I fibbed with a surprisingly even tone.

My dad's brows wrinkled. "Okay?"

"Don't worry about it, Dad. I'm just in a hurry to get home. Nothing personal against… the boy."

He shrugged it off and helped bag the items as they were rung at the counter.

I breathed a sigh of relief that I was able to defer his curiosity.

* * *

Tuesday was my day with Leah. I picked her up and headed onto Port Angeles to grab lunch, do some window shopping, and probably catch a flick at Lincoln Theater.

We sat at a booth in Smuggler's Landing, the casual pub right on the water. I had my Crab Cake Sandwich while Leah enjoyed her Grilled Cod. We were seated in a great area, overlooking the harbor. I was just as nervous to see her as I was to call her with the possibility of discussing Paul. It wasn't all that bothered me, of course. With Jacob still missing, I always had that unease in the back of my mind. Every day that passed that he wasn't home added anxiety deep within my gut.

She lifted a curious brow at me. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I answered before taking a sip of my iced tea. "Why?"

"You look… I don't know." Her eyes studied me. "Worried."

I sighed. "Does it show?"

"Yes."

"My brother," I admitted. "I'm concerned that he's okay. And we haven't heard from him. And it's upsetting to be around my father, who seemed to have surrendered to the fact that Jacob left. He's not even trying to find him."

Leah looked at me, her mouth opening as if she was hesitating to tell me something.

"What?" I pressed. "Do you know something? Do you know where he went?"

"No," she admitted. "But I know how much he's hurting, so I don't blame him for leaving."

I flinched at her statement. She and my brother were never close, for all I knew. Had things changed? "How do you know that?"

"Look, a lot has happened since you left. Though I know Jacob and I aren't the greatest of friends, you can say I've seen—or witnessed, rather— how much he cares about that girl. I've seen how much she's lead him on, only to make a choice that didn't involve him. Jake just needs time to deal."

"He could at least check in with my dad."

"True," she admitted. "But I don't think you need to worry. He probably has a good excuse for not checking in. I'm sure he'll be back before you know it."

I put down my sandwich and eyed her speculatively. "You know, everyone I ask about my brother is being selective in their words with me. I can't help but think that all of you know more."

Her face was careful before it turned into an expression of bewilderment. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You. My dad. Embry and Quil. Seth." And Paul, I tacked on mentally. I leaned forward, looking her straight in the eye. "You sure you aren't hiding something from me? Is there something you're not telling me?"

She looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment before she put on a poker face. "I only know as much as Seth knows."

Sighing heavily, I leaned back in my chair and chewed absently on a French fry.

"Look, I understand. No one knows more how it feels to have a younger brother, and want to protect him. Your dad, you say he has surrendered to the fact that Jacob left?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that maybe he is right in believing that Jake will come back? Don't you think his confidence in your brother's wellbeing, as well as his return, is from nothing?"

"Well, no. I'm sure my dad has all the confidence in the world about Jake."

"Don't you?"

"I don't know. I," I looked at her for a moment. "I guess," I admitted.

"So try to keep that thought in mind. Your dad isn't going to be silly about his own son. If he has confidence, so should you."

I hate that she had a point.

We'd spent most of lunch with random chitchat, and I was thankful that the topic of Saturday night didn't come up.

That is, until it did.

"So what happened to you and… Derek, was it?"

"Darren," I corrected her, lightly, solely on reflex.

"That's right, Darren," she said.

I put down my sandwich and wiped my fingers with my napkin, picturing my ex-boyfriend's blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. "Um, yeah… that didn't work out so well."

She looked at me with curiosity.

I tried to figure out a clever way to tell her. "Her name was Heather," I said with no emotion.

She frowned, disgusted. "Figures."

"Yeah. She was from the sister sorority to his frat. His choice, I guess."

"How did you find out?"

"I walked in on them."

"Walked in on them what?" she pressed.

I winced at her, recalling the picture of them taking a romp on his bed.

Leah read the scene from the expression on my face. "Wow."

"Yeah, I know." I was a little shocked at that moment that the memory didn't sting as much as it used to.

"How long was that for, again?"

I shrugged, a little surprised myself that looking back on the relationship didn't bother me so much anymore. "I think about a year and a half. I'm not sure."

"Well, good riddance," she sighed.

"Yup," I agreed.

"What?" she asked, noticing me deep in thought.

"Nothing it's just… it used to be so hard to talk about, but lately, it doesn't hurt to think about him anymore."

She seemed to have an emotion that I couldn't recognize as she regarded me. It seemed like a strange lack of surprise in what I said.

"What?" I asked her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm just… not shocked is all."

"Why do you say that?"

She seemed to shake off whatever thought she had in her head. "Nothing. I just… admire people who are able to move on."

I nodded, grabbing my sandwich and taking a bite.

Leah continued to work on her lunch as well. As she ate her fish, she seemed to ponder something before speaking. "Look, I'm sorry about Saturday night," she sighed.

"Saturday night?"

"My reaction to the, uh, kiss—"

"No problem, really," I interjected, feeling the burning flush on my cheeks and ears. Clearing my throat, I took a bite out of my sandwich and took a moment to chew on it thoughtfully. As I took a long pull of my iced tea, I felt Leah's stare at me as if I were going to continue.

"So," she began, and I took a deep breath, "Paul, huh?"

I sighed. "Don't even start with me," I muttered.

"Don't even start? Please!" She folded her arms and eyed me suspiciously. "I wasn't the one sucking face with him by the fire."

My cheeks grew flaming red. "Please don't remind me."

"What? You mean to tell me you didn't like it?"

"That's beside the point." The statement flew out before I knew what I said. "I mean—"

She gave a face that was half smirk and half wince, like she was disgusted and amused at the same time. "So you did like it."

"Leah…"

"What?"

"It was just a fluke. A stupid… one-night… mistake."

Her eyebrows rose towards her hairline. "Mistake? Is that what you think it was?"

"Yes," I insisted.

She looked at me speculatively. "And you didn't think of him at all when you got home that night? Or anytime since then?

"No!" I maintained. "It's ridiculous. He's practically a child."

She wore an expression of disbelief, but continued her speculation anyway. "Well, I can't argue with that fact, but—"

"It was nothing," I proclaimed, though I felt like I was convincing myself just as much as I was trying to convince her. "I guess I was just… curious. He seemed nice to talk to, and he's funny. But that was it. Just one night. Not like I'd be in town for long anyway."

She arched a brow at me as if she was waiting for me to say more.

"Just a fling," I insisted. "That ended just as soon as it began."

She sighed over dramatically as she cut another piece of her cod and dipped it in the sauce. "Well, I'm here if you need to talk," she offered.

"I really don't want to talk about it anymore, Leah," I pleaded. "Nothing to talk about."

"You sure now?"

I growled. "If we talk about him, then we'll also have to talk about Sa—"

Her eyes were quick to shoot a glare that would've killed me if it could. "_Don't _even go there."

"Well, we need to be fair," I insisted.

"Look," she said, leaning forward, her voice dropping low, "I realize I don't have many friends these days. I lost many of them when I was with… well when I was occupied. You're one of the few. I was just simply stating that you can come to me with anything. I'm here for you."

I placed my hand on hers, touched at her sentiment. "Well, thanks Leah. I'm here for you too."

"Thank you. I just think you should know, whatever you choose to do with your life, and whoever you choose to do it with, I'll support it. And I promise not to judge." She sighed and looked away and then turned back to me with a wicked grin. "Or at least try."

"Very funny," I grumbled.

My cell phone went off, to both of our relief. I smiled as I looked at my caller ID with an 808 area code. "Hey Becky."

"Hey," she greeted me on the line. "Sorry I didn't call you yesterday. I had a late shift."

"It's all right. What's going on?"

"Not much. I just called to ask… Is Jake home yet?"

Regret pricked at my skin, thinking I probably shouldn't have rushed ahead and told her about Jake when I found out. But it was such a shock that I had to tell her.

"Not yet," I said. "But guess who I'm with."

"Who?"

I handed the phone to Leah, whose hand was already stretched out towards me expectantly.

"What's up, biyatch. Glad to know you know how to use a phone. Too bad you don't know how to use one on me."

She beamed at me as she spoke to my sister, and I returned the smile. God, I missed this. There was a time when all three of us were inseparable. We switched the phone back and forth, joking around with her and reminiscing for a moment before we let her go.

After paying for the check, we visited some shops and tried on clothes at local shops. It wasn't long before we headed onto the movie theater to watch _Deadman's Chest. _We bought our drinks and a large bucket of popcorn to share and then found our seats in the dark theater. Leah found a great spot and maneuvered herself into prime viewing position with no issue.

As I was settling in my seat, Leah's head shot to the right. "You've got to me kidding me," she grumbled under her breath.

I followed her eyes, and my stomach churned with butterflies as a caught the very eyes I was hoping not to come across, but longed to see since the beach. Paul followed the crowd of moviegoers, filing in on the other side of the theater. I noticed he was there with his best friend, taking a seat beside Jared, with Kim on Jared's other side.

There was a tap on my shoulder, and a red headed kid that worked in the theater handed me a box of Milk Duds and a bottle of Dasani. "For you," he said.

Leah and I exchanged confused glances before looking back at the kid.

"Compliments of the gentleman over there," he said motioning over to where Paul was sitting. "The one in the leather jacket and green hoodie." I wasn't sure if the kid ever excused himself before he walked away, because my attention was on Paul.

"Of all the corniest things to do," Leah sniped, falling into a chuckle.

But I barely heard her. My eyes were on his, returning the burning stare he always had, letting my craving eyes satiate their thirst for him.

His fist was already up by his face, and his hand opened with purpose, in a very slick version of a wave hello.

Awkwardly, I mouthed _'Thank you," _very quickly.

His answering nod was something you'd see James Bond would do.

"Wow," Leah said through her laugh. "I never thought he could be so cheesy."

Paul's eyes shot past me over to Leah, his mouth curling up behind his teeth in a growl that couldn't hear from where I was sitting.

She laughed harder in response, prompting a few neighbors to shush us as the movie began.

I tried my best to concentrate on the movie, but even when Jack Sparrow was doing something stupid, or William and Elizabeth shared love scenes, I could feel Paul's presence, his stare.

When the movie let out, I was ready to bolt, but Leah stayed to say hello to Kim. I figured it was probably best that I at least thank Paul for his cheesy, yet adorable gesture during the movie.

It was tough to find people out of the crowd of movie-goes, but luckily Jared and Paul were taller than the average person. I had to admit that height wasn't the only thing that helped me locate the kid.

I realized I could pick Paul out from anywhere. He just didn't move like others did. Actually, he seemed to move like a predator. His thick shoulders rolled with his gait, his walk with determination. With very strong direction. Though it was clear he was headed our way—that his sights were set on me—I also observed that his eyes continually scanned his surroundings. He was so aware of everyone and everything. I got the sense that he could wipe out everyone in the theater house if he wanted to. It ironically gave me a sense of unease and security at the same time.

I'd never seen him this fully dressed—dark baggy jeans, a jacked with a heather grey t-shirt and hunter-green hooded sweatshirt underneath, and tan boots that you would find rappers wearing in hip hop videos.

"Hey girls!" Kim said, giving us both hugs. "So nice to see you."

"Yeah," Jared said. "Totally unexpected." His tone was a little mechanic, a touch of sarcasm in his rehearsed reaction to the fact that we were at the exact same theater watching the exact same movie at the exact same time.

Paul caught my line of sight and waved silently.

As Leah and Kim chatted for a moment, Paul made his way through some folks to stand close to me, clearing his throat and looking ahead instead of at me.

I fidgeted as I stood next to him. "Yeah… uh. thanks for the candy and stuff."

He gave a soft nervous laugh. "No problem," he said. His voice was silk again, and I felt the burn of his stare on me as I kept my eyes unseeingly at the people leaving another theater. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"About what?"

"Chocolate."

I stared at him, confused.

"As opposed to Sour Patch Kids, or Twizzlers, or something like that. You like chocolate better," he deduced. "Don't you?"

"Yeah," I breathed. "How'd you guess?"

He was smug. "I guess I'm just lucky that way."

"All right," Leah interceded, sourly. "How did you know where we'd be?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about."

She folded her arms in front of her chest. "I know a bunch of you guys went to see this movie already, so don't play with me."

"Hey, this is a public theater. Besides, what's it to you? So what if we wanted to see it again?"

She frowned. "Pirates? Really?"

"It's a fun movie."

"Bull," she protested.

Kim and Jared interrupted, sharing their thoughts about the film with us and Paul joined in for a moment.

I realized quickly that I didn't want to stand around and socialize for too long. Sue had invited me over for dinner with her and Leah tonight and I didn't want it to become a larger affair than intended.

Apparently, Leah was thinking the same thing. "Seriously," she began, pulling Paul away, "how'd you find out where we'd be and what we'd be watching and what time?"

He sighed dramatically. "Seth, all right?"

Leah frowned. "I'm gonna kill that kid."

"Why do you care if we're here or not?"

She stepped up to him, right in his face. "Because you're crashing on my night with my friend."

Paul didn't budge, his face stern and challenging. "So?"

"If you want to see her, you should go and ask her out yourself. Unless you're too chicken to do that, which wouldn't be a shock."

He scoffed. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"How would you like it if _I _crashed your date, moron?"

I touched her arm. "It's fine Leah. Let's just go."

"Where are you all headed off to?" Paul asked, his chocolate gaze fixed on me.

Nosey. "Home," I answered quickly.

Leah hugged Kim, nodded her head at Jared, and narrowed her eyes at Paul before heading for the door. I waved at everyone goodbye and followed her to the car, all the while feeling the heat of Paul's stare after me. Again I fought the draw, the instinct to turn back and look at him. I drove away training my eyes forward.

Pull or no pull, I _will _avoid him.

* * *

The day was Thursday. I slept in and then started the laundry. Padding over to the kitchen, I made myself a bagel and cream cheese with a glass of orange juice between loads. I sat down in front of the TV to eat, though it was tough for me to do so. Yesterday, I'd spent with my dad in the daytime and applying for jobs in Seattle in the evening.

Today was the day. Today was the day that I chose to face my biggest fears and visit my mother at the cemetery. I hadn't been back to the gravesite since the first year of her death. It was so painful for my sister and I that my dad never bothered to force us. He'd always let us deal with our grief the other way. I guess that sort of made sense now, considering how much freedom he'd given Jake over his grief with the Swan chick.

I couldn't get myself to finish my breakfast. I ended up chucking one half of the bagel and pouring the rest of the juice into the sink.

I walked to the car with determination that I'd never had before.

I was gonna do this.

I turned the key in the ignition with shaky hands, and drove to the sacred burial grounds. If I could get through this, I could leave and join Dana in Seattle and begin my job search. I would be able to move on. But it had been too long, and need to see her. Visit my mother's grave.

I mentally winced at the last word I thought of.

The day was overcast, as usual. A little dreary, and quite chilly, like high 50's and low 60s. It was normal for our summers this cold. I made it a point to notice the weather, and the beautiful wooded surroundings of Quillayute Road. Anything to keep my mind off of what I was about to do.

Nausea began to grow once I saw the sign for the Quillayute Cemetery. I realized I really should have forced myself to finish the bagel and the juice.

I pulled up and put my car in park, staring blankly ahead of me. I could see the heads of the gravestones just past the bushes that marked the cemetery's entrance. The sight of them made me sick. Flashes of her funeral came back to me, spinning my mind back onto things I hadn't wanted to relive all these years that I'd been away.

The pain. Complete and utter sorrow.

I sat in my car, my hand on the door latch, unable to pull. I was such a chicken.

But I knew that my resolve was waning.

I was so weak.

My courage, my determination, was fading.

I couldn't do this.

I pulled out of the cemetery, making a u-turn and going back down the road I came from.

I felt like I had failed. I had failed my mother. I'd spent a good six or seven years avoiding the spot. I never visited her, not even for her birthday. What kind of daughter was I? I spent several moments mentally beating myself up over that fact. After a while though, I began to reason it out.

Maybe next time, I figured. Maybe the next time I was in town, when I'd started my career, and settled in the big city. Maybe then I could face this without any reservations. Without any fear. Without any guilt.

There was a loud pop and the car veered to the right, sending my heart into overdrive as I tried to swerve to miss the trees.

I checked my pockets, my seats, and my purse, but my cell phone wasn't anywhere to be found. "Crap," I growled, realizing I'd left it on the kitchen counter and never took it with me.

I stepped out to look at my car, realizing that one of my tires blew. "Damn it," I growled, frustrated. Tired.

I'd learned from my dad long ago how to change a tire, but with the help of a jack. However, the one in my car was broken from the last time I'd done this over two years ago. And the last time I'd changed a tire was two years ago, so my memory of the process was a little rusty. There was nothing for at least five miles on Quillayute Road from either direction.

"Great," I groaned to myself, frustrated at being completely stranded. "Just great."

It was a small moment that I sat there, staring at my tire, fighting the tears that began to well in my eyes. Here I was, a failure at visiting my mom, and now I was stranded with a flat. Maybe it was a way of her punishing me for not making it.

And then I heard rustling leaves and breaking twigs , my eyes scanning frantically around me at the surrounding thick woods. "Hello?" I called out, my voice shaky. "Is anyone there?"

The sounds—like footsteps—approached, becoming louder and more distinct. They were running.

Running towards my direction. I began to freak out, trying to recollect the crime rate in the area, or the sightings of bears or other predatory animals.

"Rachel?" I heard a gruff voice ask. "Are you okay?"

Of all the rotten luck.

I should've recognized that voice. I should've hid from it.

I looked up to see Paul emerging from the shadows of the forest, Jared close behind him. He stalked forward, his predator-like gait with an edge of urgency. It was the first thing I noticed before I realized how he was dressed.

Shirtless.

Exposed thick, smooth muscles. My eyes couldn't help themselves from feasting on him- especially when he was dressed this way; so scant. His chest and abdomen were ribbed with awesome strength. His cut-off khakis hung over sturdy, corded thighs and calves. Heavily roped shoulders and arms.

Maybe my luck wasn't so rotten after all.

I shook off the thought. "I'm fine," I finally answered, when I got over my inappropriate gawking and internal fawning of the young boy. "Flat tire," I muttered.

"Yikes." Paul looked at the tire and then me. "Well, at least you're okay."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So now you're stranded," he stated.

"Do you always state the obvious?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I don't have to help, you know."

"I don't need you to."

He looked at my Corolla, and then back at me. "You sure about that?"

I sighed out of frustration. So much for Project Evasion of the Underage Boy.

"Mind if I take a look?" he asked, walking over to the side of my car.

"Sure," I groaned in surrender. After all, what choice did I have?

He stood up and walked to my trunk. "Got a jack with you?" Paul asked, taking a look inside. "Ah, there's one."

Jared turned to me. "You just sit over there and we'll take it from here."

"Um, not a good idea," I informed them, ignoring Jared's request. "I don't think you can use my jack. It's broken."

"We'll manage," Paul assured me, pulling out the spare from the trunk.

"I'm sure we can figure it out," Jared insisted, his smile full of mischief. "You just need to sit over here."

I did as he said, sitting on a fallen tree near the side of the road. I found it strange though, that they would insist that I sit so far, like they were hiding what they were doing to my car.

To my surprise, the car lifted, but there was a lot of action. They worked so fast that I could hardly distinguish what they were doing.

The silence was awkward, filled with shy glances between Paul and me. I decided to fill it with a question, especially since it was so strange that they appeared out of thin air, stepping out from a thicket of trees and wearing next to nothing.

"So what were you doing out in the middle of nowhere?" I asked from where I was, hearing them screw and unscrew bolts

Paul looked up from the car at me. There was a long moment of silence as he seemed to try to word his answer. "We were just taking a hike."

I regarded their outfits. "Dressed like _that_?" I asked before thinking.

Paul's lip curled up on one side. "Why? Does it bother you that I don't have a shirt on?"

I cleared my throat. "No—uh—you… you just look ridiculous is all."

He turned back to his work with an annoying smile. Stupid, cocky bastard.

"We're done," Paul called over.

"Already?" I was surprised enough that they were clearly to fix an already broken jack, but to be finished so quickly?

"Come see for yourself," Paul offered.

"Wow, that took no time."

"Told yah," Jared said.

I walked over slowly. The tire was on nicely, like nothing was ever wrong. "Good job," I muttered, despite my desire to seem indifferent towards him, and everything he did. And all the things that he was.

"Well, your brother isn't the only young mechanic in LaPush," Jared boasted as Paul rolled the flat tire over to the back and loaded it into the trunk. "Paul's just as good, if not better."

Paul glared at Jared.

"What?" Jared said. "It's the truth."

As Jared went to put the tools away, Paul turned to me. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"About what?" I asked.

"That he mentioned… Jake."

I shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it. I should be the one apologizing… for bothering you."

"You're not," he assured me, sincerity in his eyes and the lilt of his silky voice.

"Well thank you, anyway," I said.

"De nada," he mumbled nodding. "This is only a doughnut, so you'll have to get your real tire fixed. If it can't be fixed, you'll have to buy a new one."

I let out an exhale of frustration.

"There's a tire place just walking distance from my house. Stan's. I'm sure you know it."

"I do," I sighed.

"I can come with you." He looked at Jared, and then backs at me. "We both can, right J?"

Jared didn't look too pleased. "I—whatever," he answered, dismissively.

"You guys don't really have to. Seriously."

"No, really," Jared assured me. "It's cool."

"Told ya," Paul interceded.

I climbed into my car, Paul taking the passenger seat, and Jared sitting in the back and dialing a number on his cell phone.

Immediately, he leaned toward my dash board, reading the meters and the lights. "You need an oil change."

"Yeah I know," I clipped, dismissively.

"Yo, and your check light engine is on. Don't you take care of your car at all?"

"I've been busy," I said, a little embarrassed. I was already apprehensive enough with him in the car, but the fact that he was pointing out obvious things to me made me feel stupid as well.

He let it go, seeming a bit nervous himself. It didn't take long before I caught Paul eyeing my wallet full of CDs. "You mind?" he asked, his hand going for the CD book.

I shrugged. "Go ahead."

He searched through the selection, mumbling the names of artists. "Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Panic at the Disco."

"And?" I asked, curious.

"Nothing, you just have similar tasted to Jake—I mean."

"It's okay," I assured him.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Really, you don't have to keep apologizing. He's my brother and your friend. He'll come up."

He nodded and watched me as I drove before continuing to rummage through my collection.

"Dude, really?"

My eyes flickered to him and then back to the road. "What?"

"N'sync?"

The warmth of a blush permeated my cheeks. "Yeah, so?"

He laughed. "Nothing."

I pressed my lips together, annoyed. I could hear the quiet hum of Jared's voice on his cell phone with Kim, giving her a report of my car troubles.

Paul continued to rummage through my car's music collection. He nodded in approval of other CD's: John Legend, Ne-Yo, Robin Thicke, and Chris Brown.

He cleared his throat. "Let me guess," he said. "You're a Justin Timberlake fan?"

I blushed red. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well considering you have not only his complete albums, but all his singles on CD as well."

I frowned. "There are mixes and special versions on those disks that you don't get with the album," I explained in almost a growl, defensive.

He chuckled. "Sure." He eyed my iPod that sat in the compartment under my head unit. "I bet that iPod is full of JT, too."

"Your point being?"

"Just being observant."

I winced in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you don't like any of his songs?"

His large shoulders shrugged. "Eh. Maybe one or two," he admitted.

I shot him a look, a little smug. "See."

"That's beside the point, girl," he insisted. "You're obsessed, admit it."

"So what's it to you?" I asked, my eyes narrowing in his direction as we pulled into Stan's Tire Repair. "Jealous?

He turned to me with the same tight eyes. "And what if I was?" he challenged me.

Swallowing hard, I diverted my eyes from him, concentrating on parking instead.

"Well," Jared said, cutting the silent tension in the car. I hadn't even realized that his phone call had ended by then. "This has all been… exciting, but I need to get back to Kim."

"Go on," Paul urged, waving a dismissive hand at Jared. "No one will miss you.'

He glanced between the two of us. "Oh. Heh. Well, that was far from my worries," he responded with a chuckle.

"See you later, Jared," Paul growled.

He laughed again, raising his hand farewell. "Later, peeps."

"Bye," I breathed with a wave as Jared stepped out and walked towards the road.

I regarded his lack of shirt before we walked in. I guess I must've made a face when I did so, because he paused and asked, "What is it?"

"Are you really going in dressed like that?"

He rolled his eyes and pulled a piece of white cloth out of his pocket. He stretched it out with his fingers—a very thin, white wifebeater—and pulled it over his head.

As he smoothed it over his abs, I hadn't realized I was staring at him. He narrowed his eyes at me. "Is that better?" he asked, his gaze shooting right through my own, into my heart. And maybe lower.

I gulped and turned away. "Yes. Much." My voice was uneven and shaky. Completely embarrassing. I cursed at the fact that I found him endlessly attractive, clothed or not.

Paul helped me carry the tire to one of the guys and explain the flat. He also brought it to the mechanic's attention that I was due for an oil change and my maintenance light was on.

As we sat in the waiting room, I thought again about my brother. All the talk about cars would've naturally lead me to think of his aspirations to be a mechanic, without Jared or Paul's previous mentions of him. Of course, if you asked Jake,he already _was_ a mechanic. I wondered then, how he was going to react to the fact that Dad is attending Bella's wedding. Would Jake hold it against him? Would Jake understand?

Paul got up from his seat and asked if I wanted something to drink. I accepted absentmindedly, my thoughts still with my brother.

As Paul walked to the refreshment table, I contemplated on my brother much further. I couldn't wait until Jake got back, so I could smack some sense into him. It wasn't all that bothered me. I still had an underlying feeling that everyone knew something more about Jake's whereabouts than I did.

"So all they had was this generic soda."

Paul's deep voice brought me back to the present, his hand reached out with a plastic cup full of soda. "It's fine."

"Your car will be okay," he reassured me, misreading my face. Obviously, it was tough for me to hide my feelings. "Just a tire."

I took the drink from him. "Oh, that's not—I mean, yeah, I know."

He sat beside me, his eyes never leaving my face. "What?"

"That's not what I was thinking about."

His eyes watched me carefully as I took a sip of whatever grape-flavored drink it was. "Well, you're worried about something."

He put the cup to his lips as I shrugged my shoulders.

"Jake?" He said my brothers name carefully, like he was treading dangerous waters.

I sighed, nodding my head in silence. What was the use in hiding it? In lying?

"I see," he mumbled.

"Is it that obvious?" I studied the floor tiles.

"Not really," he said. "I'm just observant, I guess."

I furrowed my brows. "Right," I scoffed.

He was quiet for an instant before he turned in his chair so that his body faced me.

I ignored it, looking forward. I felt uncomfortable with his intense stares… like he was leering at me. However, I was pretty sure the reason for such uncomfortable feelings came from the fact that I was horrified in the pleasure that I found in his attention. In his company.

"Look," he began, his voice like satin sheets against naked skin, "the kid gets on my nerves. Always has. He's a bit of a twerp, and a big tool sometimes, but the thing is, he's strong. Perfectly able to take care of himself. He's got a good head on his shoulders, and his own mind. A stubborn mind at that. And when he's ready to come around, he will."

It was strange as I processed his words, how much they had a calming affect over me, like Paul's assurance nurtured me from the inside. It didn't wipe away my doubt completely, though. "How are you so sure nothing's happened to him?"

He began to shake his head even before I finished my question. "Nothing has. I'm sure he's fine."

So certain of himself. Of my brother. "But _how_?" I asked. "How do you _know _that?"

There was strength and confidence in his eyes as his gaze burned into me. "Just trust me, Raych," he said, his voice sure and… trustworthy. "I just do."

The way he said _Raych_ moments ago caused my heart to flutter involuntarily. He said my nickname with an odd combination of reverence, comfort, and familiarity. I found myself longing to hear it from him again.

"He'll come back." He placed his hand on mine, the burning heat of his palm sending a shiver up my spine.

I pulled my hand away and cleared my throat.

I wasn't sure how he did it, but that reassurance seemed to be enough for me. My mind seemed to calm, the anxiety swimming in my gut seemed to evaporate. The muscles in my torso relaxed. The worry in my heart felt as if it were fading.

"So what were you doing in that direction?" he asked, changing the subject and thankfully deflecting the awkward moment.

"Just taking a drive," I lied.

He didn't look convinced. "Were you… at the cemetery?" He wasn't exactly a genius. There wasn't much of anything else down that way.

I felt the burn of a flush on my cheeks. "Um…"

He shifted in his chair, the motion making him seem closer to me, even though he kept the same comfortable distance from me. "You can tell me, you know."

I studied his face—gentle, concerned. Rugged and chiseled. "I tried to go," I admitted. "I tried but…"

"But you couldn't?" he guessed.

I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

"Rachel Black," the guy called behind the counter.

Paul followed me to the counter, shadowing me, but never crowding me. How he was able to be around me and not get on my nerves, I couldn't understand.

As the specialist went over what was needed with my car and explained they had a few jobs to do before my own, I frowned. What would I do without a car? I was disappointed that I would be stuck at the shop for close to three hours.

"So since there's a long wait, why don't you come over for a while and hang out? My house is right around the corner. Have lunch with my dad and me."

"I don't… I don't think so." As if to protest to what was coming out of my mouth, my stomach grumbled.

Paul giggled. "I don't think your stomach agrees with you."

But as I shook my head a him, he stood up, grabbing hold of my wrist and pulling. "Come on," he urged. The force was present—the inevitable pull. He was a magnet for me.

I stood up on my feet, the strength of his pull bringing me to stand up. Reluctantly, as well as nervously, I followed him out.

The walk wasn't too far at all. He literally lived just around the corner. I hesitated at his door bashfully as he walked in.

"Paul? Where have you been? Out all night again?" Mr. Lahote walked into the living room from the kitchen. He was tall, but not as much as his son. They didn't look too much alike either, but it was hard to tell since, like my father, his hair was long, and pulled back in a rubber band. I could see the resemblance in them with the eyes. His were aged in the same way his son's were. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you had company."

"S'all right, Dad. You remember Rachel Black."

"Oh," he said, a hint of recognition in his face. "Oh, right. Billy's daughter. Hey," said reaching his hand out to me.

I took it and gave it a good shake. "Hi Mr. Lahote."

"Hank," he corrected me. "Please, just call me Hank."

"Okay," I nodded. "Hank."

"Listen, I'm sorry about your brother. If there's anything I can do to help—"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Thank you." I caught from the corner of my eye Paul making a cutting motion with his hand across his neck toward his father.

"Well you came just in time. Your aunt and I just ordered some pizza."

I stepped in and realized his aunt Pam was there. From recollection, she was Paul's single aunt, and Hank's only sister.

There were two boxes of pizza out on the kitchen counter.

"Feel free to help yourself," his aunt told me. "It'll probably be best that you eat in the dining room, where there's more space."

I was too shy to move in on the food myself, so Paul placed two slices on a paper plate and handed it to me, following right behind toward the dining table with the box of pizza. "You know, I probably won't have anymore pizza," I said as I saw he was pulling the whole pie of pepperoni toward us.

He shrugged. "I know."

I noticed that he didn't bother with a paper plate, opening the box in front of him. "Wait… is that… all yours?"

"You betcha." With his large hand, he picked up a slice and brought it to his lips.

I shook my head. "God, you eat like a horse."

Paul answered in a smile before practically shoving half of a slice in his mouth, tearing off a huge chunk.

"Gross," I teased him, giggling.

He chortled along with a full mouth of pizza.

After consuming our pizza in silence for a bit, Paul ended it. "I can come with you."

"I'm sorry?"

"The burial grounds. I can go with you."

I looked at him, confused.

"If you want," he continued.

I didn't know what to say, taking a long pull of my sprite before looking back at him.

"Look, I know how you must feel."

My eyes shot up to him, waiting for him to explain further.

"Simply put, you haven't let her go. And going to visit her will only confirm it for you."

I exhaled. He was right about me. Once again. When was he not?

"Kids," Hank said, whisking away at something in a glass pitcher. "I've got some iced tea here in the kitchen, and some cookies."

"I'm on it," Paul said, already up on his feet.

"Not so fast, young man."

He stared at his dad, confused. "What?"

"Where are your manners? I taught you better than that. You know ladies are always first."

"I was just about to get it for her," Paul argued, lightly.

"Oh," Hank laughed, flinging his long, black ponytail over his shoulder. "You usually race to food. Sorry."

I chuckled.

Paul came back and put colorful packages on the table. Chunky Chips Ahoy and Double Stuffed Oreos. Clearly Paul wasn't concerned with his caloric intake. I joined them for this dessert for a moment with a strange sense of comfort. Like I was somewhere I belonged.

"Rachel Black. You used to watch our Paul here, didn't you?" He asked this through the soundtrack of Paul's munching on more cookies than I could count.

"Yes, sir, I did," I said, picking up the glass of tea.

"And you're here again," Hank noted, his tone concerning me. I was sure I wasn't going to like the next thing he was going to say as he eyed his son with speculation. "Guess Paul never got over his little infatuation with you."

I stopped drinking my tea mid-sip and pulled the glass away from my mouth. "I'm sorry?" I choked.

"Dad," Paul grumbled on top of my question, his mouth fool of food. He was giving Hank a death glare.

"Paul you shouldn't talk with your mouth full," Pam lightly scolded him.

Hank smiled at him sheepishly before he turned to me. "You know he had the biggest crush on you when he was younger."

"Dad!"

Pam laughed and so did I, but mostly out of unease than humor.

He turned to his son. "Sorry, kid. Am I embarrassing you?"

Paul turned to me. "Don't listen to him," he said. "He's lost his head."

"Fine, fine," his father grumbled. "I won't mention anything again."

"I'm going to go change," he told me, getting on his feet and brushing the crumbs off his lap. "'Scuse me for a sec, k?"

"Sure," I muttered.

I asked for the restroom, and his aunt showed me to one near the garage door. After using the facilities and checking my hair nervously, I stepped out and took a wrong turn, ending up in the garage. To my surprise there was a drawing horse, an easel, sitting right inside. Someone in the house was an artist.

"There you are," Paul's voice said.

I jumped, turning to see him.

He was dressed in a collared polo shirt and full-length khaki pants this time. "Did I scare you?"

He cleaned up so nice that I forgot that he'd asked me a question for an instant. "Nah," I lied.

He lifted his cell phone from his pocket. "Come with me outside," he instructed. "I've got better reception there."

As I followed him out his front door, he dialed Stan's to check on his status, and then handed the phone to me. He let me call my father to let him know that I was with Paul and the status of my car. I ended up promising to be home and have dinner with him that night.

"You know I was serious about what I said earlier," he stated once again, after I'd given him his cell phone back. "I can go with you. It might be easier that way, not being alone."

I hesitated, my mind battling the rest of my body, including my heart. The truth was, I wanted him with me, and it wasn't just because I found him endlessly attractive. He was in a much safer place in his grief over his mother than I was with my own, and I was helpless to find it inspirational.

I considered this—that I needed him. Even if it was just as a friend. Even if it was just to help me get through my fear. My hurt. My loss. All the grief that I'd wanted to ignore and avoid all these years.

He was already a solace—a crutch—to my anxiety about Jacob. Already I felt confident in my brother's safety and wellbeing after just the touch of Paul's hand, the assurance of his voice. In all of the smallest lines he said in his voice, I took away from it his quiet strength, and unwavering confidence in Jake. It was with no effort but to take his word, and I already had belief that Jacob would come back soon and healthy.

Could he also be the key to my largest and deepest fears and issues—coming to terms with the loss of my mother?

He reached his hand out to me, his palm flat, fingers stretched invitingly. "Come with me," he urged.

That gravitational pull was there again, and he was like the center of the earth. The center of my world.

My own fingers flexed in reaction his hand. By some miracle, however, I was able to keep my hand at my side. "Fine," I sighed, bypassing the offer, and walking to the passenger side of his car—an old mustang. "But you're driving."

He smiled, odd aging lines appearing and surrounding the boyish grin. I know he was just a boy, but I couldn't help but respond to the man I saw before me. He unlocked the car with his key, opening the door for me.

I battled with myself internally as I climbed into his passenger seat.

I bit my lip and turned to look out the window, hiding my face from him. I hoped that I wouldn't regret this decision.

* * *

**Author's End Notes:**

* * *

**Additional Disclaimer:** As this takes place in 2006, I am remaining true to the time, including hit musical artists of that time such as Chris Brown. Though I am a fan of his music, I am not in support of his more recent mistreatment of women.

Thanks for reading!

Be sure to follow me on twitter: **achelle131** for updates, or find me in the twilighted forum under "**achelledenalicullen**."

For teasers and discussion on this story, please visit the Hungry Like the Wolf (HLW) thread on the Twilighted Forums under Fanfiction / Breaking Dawn.


	4. Chapter 4: Crutch

**Playlist:**

The XX - Shelter

Incubus - Dig

Paul Young - Everytime You Go Away

Sarah McLachlan - I Will Remember You

Evanescence - My Immortal

**Quileute Vocabulary:**

_H_ó-_kwat_ - Pale Faces

Pó-ok - Tribe People

When I originally outlined the plot of this story, I took a lot of creative liberties in the backgrounds of both Paul and Rachel, because SM had never given us much in the books. With the recent release of_ The Twilight Saga: The Official Illustrated Guide,_ I have frustratingly found some of my facts straying a bit from canon. It's unfortunate that I began writing this before I knew Stephenie's background on Rachel and Paul. I will try my best to keep it as close as possible, but there are a few aspects that I don't think can change. The largest aspect would be Paul's deceased mother in my story, where in the guide it states that his parents split (and assumed that his mother still lives) when he was eight. Unfortunately, that wouldn't help with my storyline if I were to stick with that story, so I am choosing not to. So if you're a canon extremist, I hope you will excuse the slight alteration, and enjoy this for the fan fiction piece that is meant for a fun escape!

Chapter 4 has been split in half to two chapters... Chapter 4: Crutch, and Chapter 5: Gravity. Please stay tuned for Chapter 5 in about 10 days!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Crutch**

* * *

My hands found my lap, though they seemed to not know where to rest. I settled for leaning my right arm on the passenger door. I tried to seem as casual as possible as he climbed into the driver's seat. I was in Paul's car, a white mustang with two red stripes going down its length. It was old, definitely from the 80's. Probably a hand me down from his father or his older brother. Inside, it was surprisingly clean, and I figured he must've been one of those who obsessively cared for his car.

He turned the key in the ignition, firing up the engine, and the loud bass of a familiar song filled the car. A popular beat that I recognized right away. It was Tupac's "I Get Around."

He reached forward immediately, and turned the dial down on the volume.

"Theme song?" I teased, forcing myself to pay attention to something other than my anxiety. I was thankful as it relieved some tension that was no doubt beginning to arrest in anticipation of visiting my mother's grave..

"No," he muttered through a chuckle. It was an embarrassed sound, and he shook his head in response, his cheeks growing a warm color. "Far from."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Are you blushing?"

"No," he denied, turning the song down even lower.

"Good deal," I teased again.

"Not very cemetery-friendly music, huh?" he asked.

I chuckled. "Not at all."

"It's Tupac, though," he said, his eyes on the road as he drove through town. " A classic."

"Uh, yeah, I know."

His eyes shot to me, brows growing tight in slight surprise. "You do?"

"Yes, I know this is Tupac. I wasn't born yesterday," I explained. "And I don't live under a rock."

He turned onto La Push Road by then.

"Don't look so shocked," I sniffed, watching his brows wrinkle on his profile." Song choice was just… funny."

He shook his head. "You can't always take songs for their literal meaning."

"Really?"

"No. And a classic hit from one of at the best selling music artist of all time? Come on. It should be a staple in everyone's stash."

My eyes traced his profile for a moment. "So none of the lyrics in that song influence your thinking?"

I watched as he rolled his eyes, his sight focused on the road.

"You mean to tell me you're not Quileute Tribal School's resident player?"

"And if I was?" he prompted, his eyes flashing to me before returning to the road. A sly grin cracked across his luscious lips.

I tried my best not to notice how luscious they were.

"That's your business, I guess," I answered, though somehow a lump formed in my throat that made it hard to breathe. The thought of him surrounded by girls seemed to irk me for no particular reason.

Which was impossible because I didn't care what he did with his time.

Right?

He switched to an easy listening station, and some 80's song came on. One that I knew my mother would've loved, because I'd heard her played it many years ago. She may have even sang along. Unfortunately, I didn't know the title, or the artist.

But it had to do with missing the person, and whenever they left, the took part of you with them. I guess it fit, since I felt like a part of me, my childhood specifically, died when my mother passed away.

I leaned my elbow against the door, bringing my hand in a fist up to my mouth as I looked out the window. My lips brushed gently against my knuckles as the song played on, and I shut my eyes. I prayed for a moment that Paul didn't interrogate me, ask me how I was doing or how I was feeling. I wouldn't want to answer that question.

But he never did, which I was surprised about, and endlessly grateful for.

Silence seeped into the car, bringing a cold front of fear—fear that suffocated me. I was seriously the biggest coward in the planet, and it wasn't long before that fear became a constant tremble in my fingertips. I could feel Paul's eyes flash to me every so often as he drove, but I pretended not to notice. Apprehension got the best of me as we approached the burial grounds, the headstones appearing through the brush that surrounded the Quileute Cemetery.

He stepped out and walked around the car, opening my door for me. A very tiny part of my mind noted his chivalry, but a larger part of it was being used to convince me to get out of the vehicle.

"Ready anytime you are," he mumbled. It wasn't said in a sarcastic way. In fact, he wasn't pushing me. His tone was gentle and patient. Completely sincere.

I took a deep breath before I looked up at him.

His eyebrows were arched in a careful manner, the corners of his lips curled upwards in silent encouragement.

I sharp exhale left me. "Okay," I said.

Looking at the grounds through adult eyes, things were different to me. The cemetery wasn't very large, nor was it crowded with countless headstones like most others you'd see in more densely populated towns. The placement of them was sporadic, like they were leaving room for families to be buried alongside one another. I guess it made sense.

The ground was uneven, unlike most graveyards you'd find in cities where they carefully maintained their lawns, with perfectly green sod laid out in every square foot of land. Everything uniform.

But not so much here. Nope, not at the Quileute Cemetery. The tone of the grass was inconsistent, more naturally grown from seeds. Weeds broke through every now and again, shamrock patches and nests of dandelions growing everywhere. But this wasn't in any way bad. It was more like a community project, done by tribe volunteers out of heart, out of respect and reverence of our beloved who had departed. It had character, like it was handmade.

But there was only so much I can concentrate on. Noticing such details didn't keep me from suffocating from the dread and the grief that I was sinking into with every step I took.

He seemed to read my apprehension, his pace slow and easygoing as he walked beside me. "You mind if we stop by my mom first?"

My eyes shot up to him. "Sure," I breathed, thankful and relieved to stall on my own visit.

We walked side by side, him only a step ahead. I followed him in a pathway diagonal from the entrance, towards a bluish-gray marbled headstone, with an image of roses carved into its shiny surface. It read:

_Christina Arlene P. Lahote_

_November 8, 1996_

_Loving Mother, Wife, Sister, Daughter, Friend_

I felt him watch me for a moment as I stepped at the foot of her grave. I let in a shaky inhale, my eyes switching to him as I gave him a small grin.

He returned the smile. Turning away from me, his head tipped to the side as he regarded her gravesite. "Good morning, Mom," he muttered, and then his eyes shut, head bowing forward from the neck.

As I assumed he said a silent prayer, I mimicked him, inclining my head and closing my eyes in respect. But I had to smile at his greeting to his mother. So lovely, so sincere. So undeniably sweet.

After a long while, his deep voice cut through the lovely silence. "Mom, this is Rachel Black, the one I was telling you about."

My head popped up, and stared at his back in wonder. First, because he was taking to her like she was listening. And second because of what he just said.

He told his mother about me?

He turned to me, looking in my direction expectantly.

I checked behind me on my side before I realized he was waiting for me to do something. "What?"

"Say hi," he prompted lightly, inclining his head in the direction of his mother's grave.

"H-hi," I stammered, feeling a bit foolish.

He smiled, and then turned to her tombstone as if someone called him. "Yeah, she is."

"Um…" I looked at him, confused.

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "She said you're shy," he explained.

"Oh, sorry," I said. I paused to clear my throat. "Hi, Mrs. Lahote."

"Chris," he corrected me. "You called her Chris, remember?"

"Oh I—I guess I did." I leaned to look over his shoulder at his mother's tombstone, trying to hide how silly I felt. "Hello Chris."

A smile grew on his face as he stared at her grave, and then glanced over his shoulder. "She says you've grown to be very pretty."

I blushed. "I'm—uh—thank you."

He chuckled. "You're welcome." Turning back to his mom, he bowed again, mumbling another prayer, too low for me to hear.

No matter how silly this might be, it was also incredibly adorable. I found myself respecting him incredibly. Maybe even liking him more. Almost finding it irresistible.

Stop it.

"Well, Mom, I'll see you again on Wednesday. We're going to say hello to Sarah Black now."

With that statement, my heart hammered in my chest again. What was I doing here? Could I really face this? After all this time?

I needed more time. In an effort to stall, I made note of the large arrangement of lovely yellow roses sat at the foot of her tombstone. "Those are some pretty flowers."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, his chocolate stare switching to me. "They're from me."

I smiled at him, suddenly comforted by his presence. "You were here recently. They look so fresh."

"I'm always here, actually. Didn't get to go yesterday. I was on patr—um, er—I was busy. But I swung by the day before."

My eyebrows scrunched together at his correction. I figured it wasn't my business what he did with his time. "Oh."

Well, didn't that make me feel guilty. Here is someone who's ill behaved and crazy. Someone who you'd never think would visit his late mother, and it turns out he goes to see her almost everyday. And then there's me, who's done everything by the book. Straight-edged, with a good head on her shoulders. Yet I cant put one foot in front of the other when it came to facing my mother's headstone.

"You ready?" he asked, his chocolate gaze on me, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I took a deep breath. "I don't know."

"No rush," he said. "We can walk if you'd like. Take a stroll around the place first."

I nodded silently, taking a deep breath as we began a lap around the cemetery in small, sluggish steps.

His patience was unwavering. He was gentle, just like he'd been at the beach when we were alone.

I decided to fill the silence by asking him a question in a soft voice. "So, you… you talk to your mom?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"Hmm."

He arched a curious brow at me. "What? You think I'm weird?"

"Talking to your mom? Not so weird. I think it's," I paused as I thought of the word, "sweet."

He beamed at me, a little bashful. "But…" he prompted.

"Well, speaking out loud… it's something to get used to."

He chuckled softly. "I usually don't."

"Usually don't what?"

"Speak out loud. I usually talk to her in my head. Done it since I was a child. I guess I mentally come up with her responses, but as a kid I thought they were really her. I still like to think so."

"You were speaking to her out loud just then though."

His large shoulders shrugged again. "Because you were there."

I nodded, my hands held together in a death grip, trying to hide the constant tremble in my fingertips. I stepped forward slowly and carefully, and I could literally hear the racing beat of my heart in my ears. Was I really ready for this?

"Take your time. Please," he said, like he was reading my mind.. "No one's in a hurry."

Another shaky sigh. Nothing I would normally want anyone to see, but for some reason, I felt a strange comfort around Paul.

I felt his eyes on me, the sigh bringing his attention to my wellbeing. "We can even leave if this gets to be—"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No leaving." It would be so easy to leave. To avoid this again. To put it of for another few years. Hell I'd waited a good seven already. Hell, eight almost. But I couldn't. "I can do this," I breathed.

Though it would've been the simpler choice, I had to do this sometime, and what better time than to have a friend with me.

A friend.

Because that what Paul was.

He stepped with me, with no ounce of rushing me a long. He was totally awesome. I could hardly believe that I would say this, but I couldn't have picked a better person to accompany me.

Somewhere in our stroll, Paul slowed to a halt. It took a moment to realize as I stopped with him where exactly we were standing. As I recognized the area all too well my stomach churned uncomfortably.

It had been too long since I'd last seen it, but I knew it when it came to my line of sight. It was a large headstone, slate grey marble with a carving of an angel on it.

My breath caught with the recognition that hit me like a freight train. The words engraved into the stone stood out to my eyes like the words were a neon sign in a dark alley.

_In loving memory of_

_Sara Mae Wilde Black_

_June 19, 1964 to April 4, 1998_

And in small print a couple of inches down, it read:

_Life is not measured_

_By the number of breaths we take_

_But by the moments_

_That take our breath away_

It didn't take long before the words on her grave seemed to blur together—before I realized that I was crying.

So shameless of me that I haven't been here since the funeral. That it was all too overwhelming for me to come back and relive.

Unwillingly, my mind spiraled back to that day. That horrible time. My darkest hour. My darkest days.

I was thirteen. That day was rainy, and they had to set up a tent for the burial. I sat quietly beside a sobbing twin sister and a wailing little brother. My dad would let out a sniffle once in a while, but he tried to keep a strong demeanor for us all. Everyone around us held hankerchiefs and tissues to their eyes. Sarah Black was just that well loved. I should've been crying, too, I'm sure people thought. But the well of tears within me had dried up. By that time, I was too numb.

I'd spent the six days before that weeping constantly, because she was gone in a snap of the finger. News reached us of the accident within two hours of the incident. Harry and Sue Clearwater came to the house to pick us up, and pleaded us to come with them to the hospital. I kept asking how my parents were, but they wouldn't answer. And somehow, I knew. I knew, as I asked about my mother and Sue's eyes refused to look at mine, that she wasn't coming back. I knew that was it.

But we were never able to look at her anymore—the damage was so bad. They were hit by an oncoming truck who was trying to pass a slow moving vehicle, and miscalculated his speed and distance. It was raining that day as well, and I believe hydroplaning had something to do with it as well.

She was pronounced dead on the scene, and I overheard Charlie Swan tell Harry and Sue that it was immediate. Charlie, the Deputy Chief the time, was crying, too. Her body was thrown out of the windshield on impact, and into oncoming traffic. My father was not of mind just yet, sitting in critical condition, with a fracture in his arm and a few broken ribs. I heard that he woke up hours later, screaming.

I was in denial, and I begged to see her body. No one allowed me to, but I screamed and cried and threw a tantrum in the lobby of Lonesome Pine Hospital anyway. I had completely lost it, and I wept endlessly for the next five days.

My mother was gone. My mother who, aside from my sister who'd been by my side since the womb, was my best friend. The pain was unbearable, and it took all of me to keep myself from dying along with her.

But I knew I couldn't be that way for long. I was the oldest by thirty-two minutes, and I had to be strong for my brother and sister.

Day six was her funeral. Her casket was nailed shut. None of us could even take one last look of her. Nope. Not even to say goodbye.

But the pain was so great that all my body could do was turn it off, thus turning off every other feeling within myself.

Numbness. That was all I felt. Which helped in my struggle to be strong for my siblings. Be a new mother to Jacob. My sister and I split that task until we graduated high school.

Even as the reception followed at the house, I stared ahead unseeingly as I sat in a chair of our tiny dining space, with all of the community there to pay us respect and offer their condolences.

A bright ray of sunlight cut through the clouds above, bringing me back to the present, standing now as a young woman before my mother's grave.

As much as it felt like I'm scooping out my heart through my chest with a spoon, I let my mind recall her.

And I could hear her voice, see her face, feel her fingers untangle my tresses before taking a brush to it. _One hundred strokes every night_, she would tell me. _Beautiful hair doesn't come to us naturally. _All of us wore our hair long, longer than even Dad or Jake. But the difference between our hair, and the men was that ours would be shinier and lovelier, something that could be achieved with the hundred brush strokes an night.

It was a secret that my mom passed onto my sister and I. _The Quileute men had some many other deep, dark secrets,_ mom would say. _Why couldn't we?_

_You're right Mommy,_ Becky would tell her. _We should have our own secrets._

And she would laugh. Oh, to hear her laughter. It wasn't at all a high-pitched squeal, or a deep rumble. It was just perfect, musical. It echoed in my mind and had me shutting my eyes at the memory of the sound.

I could feel her arms around me, holding me after coming into my room, comforting me on nights I had nightmares.

_It's okay_, she would say. _I'm right here. You're safe, and nothing's going to hurt you._

I had many of them when I was younger. Mostly of pale-skinned, red eyed zombies that were after me. She knew this. In my dreams, these zombies were impossible to get away from, more cunning and swift than those you'd see in normal zombie movies. It was always like they wanted hunt me down, to kill me, eat me even, or consume something of me. That was the general sense I got from my dreams, anyway.

What if they are real? I would ask her.

It was funny how she never answered the question directly. In fact, she seemed disturbed that I dreamed about such creatures, and always stared at my dad when I told them about it. They'd exchange a look, but then my dad would look away. I never understood it. But she'd comfort me anyway. She would just say, _I'm here to protect you. We all are._

Other bad dreams coincided with books I read, or movies and shows that I watched. I was never able to watch any horror films. They spooked me out too much and affected my sleeping habits. But my dreams changed as I grew older. Now it was just one recurring nightmare, though lately they'd been working themselves out. Because of a certain male presence in them. I felt my cheeks burn; remembering Paul was standing beside me, the apparent crutch in those very dreams.

Paul stayed around but didn't make a sound. I was aware of his presence, and I was thankful for it, as well as thankful for his silence. His respect. I appreciated the space he gave me. He was just so quiet, only observing.

My mind only flitted to him for a moment, most of it focusing on my mother. Sarah Black, the greatest woman I'll ever know.

_I'm so sorry_, I told her in my head, not ready to try to say anything out loud. I wasn't ready to bring anyone into it, no offense to Paul. _I'm so, so sorry I haven't come to see you._

Would she be angry with me? I would hope not, but I could never be so sure. But I remembered my mother. She wouldn't be angry with me. She was that understanding. However, I know it would've hurt her. Broke her heart.

And that was the reason why it took me longer and longer to come and see her. For every day that I didn't visit, it was that much harder to face her.

_Please, please, please forgive me._

And I could almost see her stand before me, her long, wavy black hair in a ponytail. Slender and tall, and in jeans and a fitted button down shirt like she always wore, with tennis shoes. Minimal make up because she was blessed with gorgeous, youthful, golden skin that only showed lines when she smiled. I could feel her put a hand on each side of my face, feel her lips press against my forehead. I could smell the scent of her Bath and Body Works Peach bodywash, mixed with Snuggy fabric softener. I could hear her choke back a sob, thankful that I'd come to see her.

_I love you,_ I told her. _I love you and I'm so sorry. It just hurt so much to think about it. I've been such a selfish coward. But things will change. I promise._

And I meant it.

_God, I miss you. Everything about you._

I let my mind go where I'd always avoided. All of the suppressed memories that I'd been so cautious not to recall to keep my heart from breaking over and over. Every recollection of my mother. The way she hummed 80s tunes when she cooked and cleaned in the kitchen. They way her hair smelled after her favorite shampoo. Catching she and my dad holding hands underneath the dinner table.

I imagine yet another kiss on my forehead, her fingers curling around the sides of my head with gentle pressure.

_I've missed you so much._

The tears came freely, spilling over my cheeks. My left hand flew up to cover my mouth, catching the sobs that I could no longer control.

Suddenly I felt some warmth to my right. It was Paul, his large hand stretched out to mine in an offer that I couldn't refuse.

I let him take my hand into his, his thick fingers closing around mine. He didn't look at me; his head still inclined forward in a bow of prayer. His eyes were on our hands when they joined before they shut again.

The warmth of his hand was like a comfort that I'd never known—like coming home. I clutched onto it like it was my lifeline.

There were many more memories that came to mind that flooded my brain and thrashed around. Visions of my mother. Sound clips of our times together. Shopping with my sister. Dinners with Jake and dad. So, so many.

I wasn't sure the time that passed as I stood there, feeling the loss of her completely. Everything I'd worked to avoid sweeping through me in these moments. But time did pass.

The tears began to slow, my sobs calmed down, but my hand didn't leave his. It didn't occur to me not to let go, though I guess I should have. The consolation, and relief his touch provided—the strength that his grip gave—was too great to pass up.

When I was ready to look up and walk back to the car, I'd forgotten that my hand was in his. Like our connection was the most natural and obvious thing, I hadn't noticed it in a while, and let go immediately.

He didn't seem to protest, following my lead as I was ready to walk away. That's when a splash of yellow caught my eye, and I realized yet another bouquet of yellow roses sat at the foot of my mother's gravestone. Still fresh. Baring a striking resemblance to the one Paul left on his mothers, only much smaller.

"You visited," I whispered, my eyes turning to him for the first time since I'd laid my own eyes on my mother's name.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"You came here, and visited her, too."

His eyes switched between the roses and me. "Yeah," he answered in a breath. He nodded his head slowly. "Of course."

A sob choked out once again, and I brought my hands to my face.

He stepped in front of me, trying to see past my arms. "Are you okay?"

I nodded as I wiped my face with the back of my arm. "I'm fine," I whispered. I continued to look down, a little embarrassed by my complete lack of discretion on my emotions. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I just did a whole big ugly cry in front of you."

He gave a small chuckle. "You so crazy, girl."

I looked up at his eyes, a moment of sunshine filtering through the clouds making them sparkle. "What?"

"Silly. You could never be ugly." One side of his lips curled up into a crooked smile. In his chocolate eyes, flecks of toffee colored light reflected in the sun.

For a moment, I experience déjà vu, recalling a recurring dream of the man with the chocolate and toffee eyes. My crutch in my dream has become a crutch in real life. A support system in one person, only not in a bad dream anymore. In person. In the flesh. A friend that I needed.

Maybe my hunch was right all along. Maybe my subconscious was telling me something. Things were beginning to lead me to believe that with all my issues of past and present day—Jake, my mom—Paul had come to me as a friend to help me through them.

I gulped, my heart rate increasing, the blazing heat of my blood coursing through my veins warming me. It was the same warmth I felt at the beach when I first saw him. The same warmth every time I was around him, only more intensified. I was able to shake out of it before I could respond again. "Thank you," I choked out. "For coming to see her."

"Sure," he said, but it was strange that his eyes seeming glassy as he stared at me.

We started to walk back to the car, slower than even when we first got here.

As my feet found the ground again, and I began to breathe past my grief, I was able to concentrate on other things. More specifically, Paul's exchange with his mother. Clearing my throat, I asked, "So what did you tell her?"

Paul turned to me, a little surprised and slightly confused. "Huh?"

"About me," I continued. "What did you tell your mom?"

His eyes widened in astonishment before shook his head. A sheepish grin grew on his face. "I'm not saying."

"And why not?"

"'Coz I'm not," he snipped back, gently.

"Why not?" I pressed on, a bit annoyed.

"Because," he said, shrugging his large shoulders. "That's between my mom and me."

Well, I couldn't argue with that, now could I? My mouth opened to argue on reflex, but I realized, I couldn't say much to that fact. "Okay, fine."

He shook his head, smiling at his secret, his eyes pointing forward and sparkling with mischief.

My lips pressed into a line, but I tried hard to hide my frustration at his discretion. He clearly found amusement in any reaction I had to him that was strong.

I began to realize how much I actually enjoyed being around him, even when he _was_that annoying. I was intrigued by the mystery around him. It was hard to face, but I truly relished his company. He wasn't the same kid who put gum in my hair, nor was he close to the hothead who almost beat up my cousin over a sweatshirt. Not when I was with him, at least. "What is it with you?"

His head shot in my direction. "What do you mean?"

We'd reached his car by then, so we both stood a foot away from the mustang's hood.

"You're this troublemaker—a hothead—most of the time. But then I get you alone like this and you're… kind. And funny." And charming. And incredibly irresistible, I tacked on mentally.

He winced, his head shaking with denial. "I wasn't _always_ a hothead."

I gave him a look of disbelief.

"No, really," he insisted, reading my face. "It's just… things change when, well, you know."

"I know what?"

"When you lose someone close to you. Things change. You change."

I nodded silently. I couldn't agree with him more.

"My mom, well, she was everything to me."

I was able to recall the lovely Christina Lahote. He couldn't have been more than 8 years old when she passed. She was beautiful mother. Almost as beautiful as my own…

I forced myself to concentrate on _his_ story rather than my own, see the young boy he was with the beautiful mother.

"I'd always been rambunctious, but never to this extent. Not around my mother, at least. When she was alive, I was better behaved. But when she passed—when she was taken away from me, as I saw it—I found it hard to believe that God would do that to me. I'd never done anything against Him, nothing to deserve this. I'd found it hard to swallow everything we worshipped—the very wolves that our tribe revered, the very whales Makah's prayed to—would grant that to happen. My mom was the best person in the world to me, and she was gone. It shattered my beliefs in any higher being."

I could almost understand what he was saying. It was in the same way how the loss of my own mother ruined how I felt to be here at home. I continued to listen to his story.

"We'd been living in Tacoma all that time, but after we lost mom my dad moved us back to the reservation. I didn't really care to move here. I was pretty angry with life, actually. So I sort of misbehaved and defied my father. Got bad grades, disrespected many adults in my life, got sent to the principal's office a lot. It was the only thing I felt in control of in my life. Looking back it sort of makes sense. I guess in a way I was subconsciously defying God, the wolves, the whales, the ravens, and whatever else we worshiped."

He paused, his eyes refocusing on my face. He seemed to check on me as I still looked intently at him to continue his story. In many ways, just like this moment, it seemed to me that his maturity level had caught up with his appearance. It was refreshing to hear.

He went on as my expression gave him the go ahead. "The only thing that stuck was the stars, because that wasn't an organized belief. It was just my mother's.

"It was her—what's the word—legacy? Yeah, legacy in one statement, as she laid me to bed one night, before things got worse for her and the cancer. She sat in the bed with me after opening the drapes to my window and said 'Look up there at the stars. Do you see the closest one?'

"I didn't see it at first, so she put her head closer to mine and pointed. I followed the line of her finger. 'It's the closest, prettiest one right there,' she pointed out, 'the brightest, the one whose light seems to have rays. See how those rays spin?'

"And I saw it—the largest one, or prettiest, like she said it was. And then she said, 'Paul, whenever you need me, whenever you can't sleep, and you think I'm no longer here, please know that isn't true. That star up there, that's our star. My star to you, and know—that as long as it shines down on you every night—that its me saying good night to you. That's me tucking you in every night.'"

His voice cracked towards the end of his statement, a little choked up at the memory. "So that's why, in the evenings, I always look up… and feel a little better every night."

He shook his head staring forward, into space this time, a chuckle in his exhale. "Not sure why I said all that."

I hadn't realized the tears that had fallen from my eyes when they had. But suddenly, the burning touch of his fingers were at my cheek, wiping them away. A shiver met his touch.

"Sorry," he breathed, his warm sight on my face again. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"No," I insisted. "It's good." I nodded my head, pulling away from his touch against all my instincts, wiping my tears and staring at my feet. I looked up to find his kind eyes still on me. I gulped for a moment. "It's good to know that someone understands me."

"I'm glad." His voice was a whisper.

"She was my best friend, too." I managed to say. "I loved my mother in the same way. So thank you. It really is, just.. great… to know I'm not alone."

He smiled at that, his eyes turning somewhere else. It was as if he was pleased with the idea, and with himself. "Lets get you back," he suggested.

I nodded, wiping one last tear from my cheek with my finger. "Sure."

He opened the door for me and let me in, and then walked around to get into the driver's seat.

After we pulled away, he turned up his stereo again.

So Sick, by Ne-Yo, followed by Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado, and a Sean Paul song. Those were the tunes that provided a small soundtrack to our ride.

That aside, the car ride was quiet on the way back to his house.

I unwillingly contemplated the funeral once again, and a strange detail of my memory made its way into my thoughts. For some reason my mind recollected a hand getting into my line of vision with a small yellow rose as I sat zoned out in the dining room. A hand belonging to a young boy. A boy who, in my numb memory, didn't have a face. _It's for you,_ the little voice said, slightly husky but young. _Please._ The boy wore a little navy suit, his skin a lovely tan, inched the flower forward, pressing it into my hand.

_Thanks_, I had said in a breath, still staring into space .I took it without paying much attention to which tribe boy it was. I knew it wasn't my brother because he was too busy crying in another corner of our house, sitting on Becky's lap.

Paul's car pulled to a stop, bringing me back to our car ride. I shook off hte memory, thinking how strange and random it was.

When we got there, he called Stans to see the status of my car. He tried to hide his smile that it wasn't ready, but he was clearly pleased with the idea.

"We should go somewhere," he suggested, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Or… you can just take me home."

He snorted. "What fun is that?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It's an option."

"Come on, Raych. If you were to think of something you wanted, right now, what would it be?"

"I don't know."

"Come on. Anything. Off the top of your head. Right now, what do you want?"

I searched my mind for the first thing I did want that was hard to find in this area. "A latte," I said

He frowned. "A latte?"

"I miss Starbucks," I admitted, knowing there wasn't one for miles and miles on end.

"Starbucks?" he echoed as we approached his porch.

"Yeah, they're all over the place in every other town in Washington. But La Push? Or even the Forks area? Highly unlikely."

"Really?" he asked, his face looking as if something were brewing in his mind.

"So if you think you can take me to a Starbucks or a Seattle's Best that doesn't require at least a two hour drive, maybe I'll go somewhere with you. Though I know that just doesn't exist, so you're out of luck." And I wasn't going to budge, because aside from our local diners and their mediocre brewed coffees, there wasn't really much around. Which meant there wasn't a place for him to take me.

He snorted once again. "Don't you ever get out?"

My brows furrowed at his question. "Huh?"

"There's a place right outside of Port Angeles. Blackberry Café. I hear it's even better than the chains, like your Starbucks or your Seattle's Best."

Well, God damn.

He seemed to wait for a response, and then said. "I can take you."

I was sure I looked a little dumbfounded, but my silence prompted him to speak. "Your car still won't be done for another two hours. You got anything better to do?"

"Well you can always take me home to my dad and he can always take me to get the car."

He sighed out of frustration, a frown hinting at his lips. "Yeah, no. I wouldn't want to bother your dad with that. Not when I can do it for you."

"You're quite the stubborn little ass, aren't you?"

He smirked back with a wink. "No."

I folded my arms at my chest. "I beg to differ."

He grinned larger. "Well I'm not. Little, that is."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring what he said, and preventing my mind from going somewhere very inappropriate with regards to size. "You will take me home as soon as it's ready." It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

"Sure," he responded, with a shrug of his shoulders. "This means you'll let me take you, right?"

"Whatever," I groaned.

"Word." He chuckled. "You know you're hot when you're annoyed."

"Ugh," I groaned. The compliment pleased me inwardly, but I had to change the subject. "Can I use your restroom?"

He chuckled to himself as he nodded. I followed him into his house, and he headed upstairs as he vocally directed me to the first floor restroom.

After using the loo, I checked over my hair and my face. I rinsed my cheeks and eyes, noticing slight tear stains, but I was glad the puffiness from the crying had worn down. I smoothed my hair, taking an elastic band from my pocket and smoothing it into a ponytail. I wasn't sure why the sudden interest in my appearance, considering Paul had seen me do the "ugly cry" earlier that day. Yet somehow, I found the need to look good for him.

After stepping out of the restroom on the first floor, I saw the entrance to the garage again.

This time I stepped into the garage on purpose, drawn to the great pieces of art that stood everywhere in the space. There were many drawings in charcoal, ink, and pencil. Paintings in oil and watercolor. Some of the local landscape, and some of people and animals. Most of the people were ancient tribesmen. The artist was clearly full of pride of the Quileute Nation.

But there was a certain subject that was repeated in many drawings. Some large drawings and paintings of… dogs? Coyotes?

No.

Wolves.

They were wolves.

Lots of wolves. Large, ferocious, powerful wolves.

Some were of just one.

Others were of a whole bunch of them, standing in a united front.

"Lost your way back?" I heard Hank ask.

I jumped. "Oh!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Paul's dad stood in the doorway with a basket of laundry in his arms.

"Its fine." I turned back to the shelves. The canvases. The drawings. "I didn't realize you were an artist."

"Who? Me?" he asked, a little surprised. He shook his head. "No, not me. This is all Paul's. His mother's things, actually. Paul took over as the family artist, though."

I flinched at the revelation, completely surprised. "Oh. Well that's…"

"Unexpected?" Hank asked, with a smile on his face. "Yes, I know. But it seems to be the only thing that keeps him grounded. When he's not misbehaving or doing bad in school, you can find him here." He stepped forward and placed the laundry basket on the floor. "The only place he really behaves. Though lately he's been pretty calm."

He looked at me funny, like I may have something to do with his son's newly found good behavior. Which was ridiculous.

Ignoring it, I looked at the shelves of photography books and art history. "This is his, too."

"No..ah… that was Christina's."

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Not a problem," he assured me before heading for the stairs. "I'll be upstairs watching the game, if you need me. It was great seeing you again, Rachel." He stretched his arms out.

I hugged him back. "Thank you, Hank. It was nice seeing you, too." He picked up the basket and made his way back into the house and up the stairs.

As I headed towards the door back towards the kitchen I found a sketchbook on the old drafting table, open to a page. I knew it wasn't right to do so, considering that I'd be snooping in his private stuff. But my curiosity was getting the better of me.

The page that I landed on was textured, a telltale sign that it contained a drawing. It was of the Olympic Peninsula forest, one that I clearly recognized with its overgrown trees and blanket of moss covering virtually everything in site. It was a strange point of view, like you were suspended in motion, with trees whizzing by. You got the sense of true speed from it, but there was a frantic, predatory edge to it as well. It was impressive to say the least.

However, the paper was semi-translucent, revealing a picture of a woman on the next page. I turned it out of curiosity, assuming it was one of his mother.

Boy, was I wrong.

Me.

It was of me.

I saw myself staring back at me, depicted more beautiful than I'd ever been able to see myself. The wind was in my hair, a few choice strands blown across my face. It was perfect, and there was no doubt who he'd drawn. The precision of such a drawing was baffling, with such intricate shading. This wasn't all pencil, I figured. It was charcoal, at least, because the shadows couldn't be as dark, even with the set of drawing pencils.

"What are you doing?" The deep voice came from the doorway.

I was startled as heard Paul's voice cut through my discovery, and as I jumped, the notebook slipped off the drafting table and headed for the floor.

"Oh, I, uh… sorry—" But before could bend down to catch it, his hand was already there. Paul was in front of me in a flash. He'd materialized before my eyes, bent towards the floor, his large fingers clutching his notebook.

"How'd you…" I was dumbfounded at his impressive and seemingly unnatural reflexes, letting my voice trail off. How could he one moment be across the garage in the doorway, and in less than two seconds be crouching in front of me to catch his sketchpad?

He shut the book quickly, as if maybe he was bothered by my seeing it.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"It's cool," he muttered, placing the notebook on the top of the bookshelf and out of sight.

"Really, I'm—Wait," I demanded, interrupting my own apology. "How the hell did you get over here so fast?"

He seemed to wince at my question before his expression became puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"You were in the doorway one second, an then you were right here in the next."

His face looked a little dumbfounded for a moment. "I, uh, ran."

I raised a speculative eyebrow at him. "That fast?" It was at least ten feet. I knew he had a large, powerful gait, with unimaginably long legs, but come on.

"What?" He smirked, with that maddening air of cockiness he sometimes exuded. "You don't think these legs can run?"

He was wearing full-length khakis, but the memory of his heavily roped thighs and calves sent my ears and cheeks burning with blush. _Get a grip_, I told myself. "I, that's not what I meant."

"Come on." He stepped through the garage, opening the door and showing me out. "Let's go."

"We should head on out now so that it doesn't close by the time we get back."

I glanced back at the garage and then to him. He walked forward, and he kept his eyes trained on his car. Like he couldn't look me in the eye.

It was clear people were hiding things from me. All the strange inside jokes. The looks exchanged between one another. All the strange secrecy. Leah. My dad. The boys. And Paul.

He opened the car door for me, but I glanced back over my shoulder at the garage.

"It's open," he reminded me, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I wasn't just seeing things, was I? Was I going nuts? Or was he really pulling a Houdini act?

I got into his car and watched him suspiciously as he walked around and got into the driver's seat. Yeah, he had to be hiding something from me.

But what the hell was it?

* * *

End Notes:

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Again, Chapter 5 will be out shortly, say about 8-10 days after this is posted.

Be sure to follow me on twitter achelle131 for updates, or find me in the twilighted forum under "achelledenalicullen"

For teasers and discussion on this story, please visit the Hungry Like the Wolf (HLW) thread on the forums.


	5. Chapter 5: Gravity

**Playlist:**

Sara Baraellis – Gravity

Tony Toni Tone – Whatever You Want

Daniel Bedingfield – If You're Not the One

Norah Jones – Come Away with Me

Landon Pigg – Falling For You in a Coffee Shop

**Quileute Vocabulary:**

_H_ó-_kwat_ – Pale Faces

Pó-ok – Tribe People

**Notes**: As I said before, I split Chapter 4, a monster chapter, into two. So here it is, the extra chapter, now Chapter 5, Gravity.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Gravity**

* * *

As I followed him out to his car, I couldn't help studying his demeanor. "I really am sorry." And I was for snooping around his stuff. Even though the image of me in his sketchbook was something I didn't think I'd regret ever finding.

He opened the door for me. "You don't have to be. Seriously."

The garage incident was very small but sparked a suspicion about him. Almost supernatural reflexes. He was quite a man, I couldn't deny. He looked heavy, agile. But to be so quick on his feet? Quick to grab something that was on its way to the floor in a matter of seconds?

The stereo blared. It was a 50Cent song. I think it was "21 questions."

I was seriously thinking I had a few questions of my own about him. "Okay, that was really weird."

He didn't bother looking at me when he responded. "What was?"

"Don't play coy with me."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Your little David Blaine act with the notebook. How the hell did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Come on, Paul. That notebook. You were yards away from me."

"Feet," he corrected me. "I was mere feet away."

"Still," I insisted.

His eyes rolled dramatically, still trained on the road. "Really, I'm just fast," he argued. "Why can't you just be satisfied with that knowledge?"

"Whatever," I muttered, realizing he wasn't going to tell me anything. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe he was already walking before I noticed and was able to get near me in time for the notebook to fall. I didn't know.

"It was nothing," he insisted. "I'm just quick." His tone was dismissive, ending my inquiry.

I sat quietly, a bit tense. But what if there wasn't an explanation? What if he was just quick on his feet?

His voice was low and soft but deep enough that I could still hear him sing along with 50cent. "Girrl, will you love me if I was down and out. Will you sti-hiil have love for me."

I figured I'd just move on. "So, you're into hip hop, I take it?" I asked, but feeling lame immediately afterwards at such an obvious note.

"Yup," he said, his mouth popping at the "P." "And R&B. Some alternative rock. But yeah, mostly hip hop."

"I see."

His eyes drifted to me for a moment. "Not your thing?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I like some songs. Just not everything."

"Like what?"

"Um... Black Eyed Peas, LL Cool J. Most anything Timbaland or the Neptunes touches. Not sure how I feel about LiL John. Is T-Pain considered hip hop?"

"He's not a real rapper, I guess, but he's the same genre." His face looked a bit confused and awestruck.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm just a little shocked is all. I didn't think there was hip hop in Pullman." He said it with a smirk.

Sarcastic little prick that he was. "Dork."

"You never thought to stay around here at all?"

I was shaking my head before he finished his sentence. "Not really," I said.

"You mean Billy never pushed you to stick around and meet people in our nation? Get with a nice, native boy."

"No," I answered quickly. "Not really." It was the truth.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you like _H_ó-_kwat_ guys."

"What?" I asked, blushing. I hadn't heard the Quileute language in quite some time.

"I'm right, aren't I? Pale faces were always more your thang, right?"

I shook my head, my cheeks and ears burning.

"We _P_ó_-ok_ boys never stood a chance, huh?"

I winced at him.

"My skin too tan for you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, Paul." It was funny that he teased me about that. His perfectly even, golden skin tone was one of the loveliest of his physical attributes.

"Sorry if my name isn't Justin Timberlake.'"

I laughed, punching him in the shoulder. "Stop!" But pain shot through my knuckles at the contact of his solid shoulder. It was like hitting a brick wall. Or better yet, a wall made of solid lead.

"Damn," I growled under my breath, rubbing my knuckles.

"Ow," he groaned with a chortle, at the same time that I cursed. "Damn, girl. You pack quite a punch."

"Thanks," I said, but my voice was breathy from the pain I felt in my own hand.

He glanced over at me, seeing that I was rubbing my hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm all right. But you're like... I don't know, like cement."

"I'm sorry," he breathed simply.

I worked a massage into my right hand, trying to soothe it. "It's okay, really. But you should come with a warning label."

He chuckled. "You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah." I flexed my hand.

"Maybe you shouldn't hit me next time."

I scoffed. "I'll take note of that."

He drove in silence for a couple minutes before saying, "I was just kidding, you know."

"About what?"

"You. And _H_ó-_kwat _dudes."

I shook my head in disapproval. "Yeah, I know."

"Kinda," he muttered, turning to me with a sheepish grin.

The song changed to Mariah Carey's "We Belong Together," and I hummed along.

"You like the video?" he asked me.

"I'm sorry?"

"Mariah's video. With ol' Prison Break dude."

"Well, yeah," I said, my tone adding the 'of course.'

"You like him." I think it was meant to be a question but came out a conclusion.

"Who?" I asked, but I clearly knew where he was going with the question. Everyone loved Michael Schofield, or at least the actor who played him.

He chuckled mockingly. "Now who's being coy?" He flashed his pearly whites.

I grinned, recalling Wentworth Miller's face, standing in that suit in Mariah's music video. "What's not to like?"

"Figures," he sniffed.

"That really gets under your skin, doesn't it?"

He shrugged. "It's whatever."

"Well, what do you like?"

"What do you mean?"

"In terms of girls."

He smiled to himself. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I don't, actually." It was an attempt to sound nonchalant, and I wasn't sure if it came out that way.

His brow raised in my direction. "Then why do you ask me?"

I rolled my eyes and looked out the window silently. I figured the less I reacted when he was in one of his cocky moods, the less he'd act that way.

"My Justin Timberlake," he sighed thoughtfully.

I turned slightly to the sound of his voice.

"Hmm... I guess it would be Jessica Alba."

I turned my shoulders fully to look at him.

"Long, dark hair," he mumbled. "Tan skin."

"So you like them ethnic?"

"No," he corrected. "I like them native."

"Jessica Alba isn't native."

"Her dad is. Mexican Native. I forget which nation."

"Ah," I said.

"Or Nicole Scherzinger."

"Nicole who?"

"Scherzinger, lead singer of Pussy Cat Dolls."

"Is she native, too?" I asked.

"Nah. She's Hawaiian and Filipino or something like that. But same thing. Native-looking."

"Hmm," I said, trying to recall the face of the lanky singer and trying to hide my envy.

Paul continued anyway. "But yeah. Brunette, tan skin. Brown eyes, with a little bits of yellow in them when the sun hits." His eyes turned pointedly at me. "About 5'4"."

"How very specific of you." Though I was vaguely aware he was stating my statistics.

He chuckled for a moment, but after a moment of silence, he continued again. "Laughs a lot. Worries a lot. Loves with everything she's got."

My eyes darted towards him.

His sight flitted to me before looking at the road, a grin playing at his lips.

I cleared my throat and reached for the tuner's dial on his head unit. "You mind if I change it?"

"Not at all."

I switched it to The Fray and sat in silence.

It wasn't long before we reached the little shop. It was cute and reminded me of a small town version of the Central Perk coffee shop in Friends. Only much more quaint.

As we walked towards the counter, I did a look-over at the menu, part of which was written in chalk on the board. Such a homemade feeling. I couldn't get over how charming it was.

He turned to me. "What do you want?"

I shook my head. "I can get my own drink."

"No, let me," he insisted. "Whatever she wants," he told the cashier, pointing at me over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Fine. A small Nonfat Vanilla Chai Latte."

"Anything to eat?" Paul asked me.

I shook my head.

He turned back to the cashier. "I'll get your largest, chocolate frozen cappuccino thing and a medium hot tea."

"So that's a large Choco Frap, and a medium hot tea."

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. "Whatever you just said." Clearly, he didn't come here often. "And two cookies," he tacked on.

"I don't really want a cookie," I whispered to him.

"I know," he breathed.

I shook my head, trying not to blush at my assumption. They were for him. Of course.

We found some plush seating in some welcoming arm chairs that were separated by a side table to get comfortable in.

I quietly sipped my latte as he slurped his frozen drink and munched on cookies.

Norah Jones was playing over the sound system, but that was quickly drowned out by Paul's straw sucking soundtrack and crunching on an oatmeal raisin disk.

He asked me a question with his mouth full, but I didn't understand.

"I'm sorry?" I asked again.

He finished what he was chewing on, holding a finger up. After swallowing, he asked, "You like your latte?"

"Uh, yeah, thanks." My eyes did a survey of the shop from our seat. "This really is charming."

"Told ya," he mumbled with more cookie in his mouth.

The way he consumed his Frappuccino and the cookies, you would've thought he didn't have close to one full pizza just a couple of hours ago.

"Big appetite," I commented.

"I'm a growing boy," he teasingly replied.

"You know, I really should've been the one paying for your Frap, and cookies, and tea."

He shook his head in protest.

"I mean, it's the least that I could do for this afternoon. And not just the flat tire."

A serious, empathetic expression crossed his features before he smiled. "Don't worry about it. You have enough to pay for with your car repairs and stuff."

"True."

His eyes were hot on mine, locking and clinging to my sight. "Besides, sitting here with you, it's thanks enough."

I swallowed hard, and then tore my eyes away from him, staring at my coffee mug. I cleared my throat and looked away.

"Didn't you work at one of these places while you were at school?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't like this."

I continued to tell him the difference between Blackberry Café and the campus one that I'd slaved in for several summers and breaks. Then he asked if I knew how to make what I was drinking, and I explained that though I did know, I missed the good ingredients that a great café would carry that you wouldn't find in any supermarket in the Forks area.

As the conversation died down about coffee, my comfort around him improved.

"You never told me you were an artist," I told him, before I took a sip of my latte.

"You never asked," he simply stated.

I looked at him with an open curiosity.

His face was full of reluctance to continue, but something in my expression made him change his mind. "Besides, I don't exactly count myself as an artist. It's just a hobby. Drawing, painting. Just something that I like doing for fun."

"But I saw your work."

His thick brows furrowed together. "And?"

"And it's good," I asserted. "It's pretty impressive, actually."

His eyebrows shot up in reaction to my comment.

I decided to continue anyway. "So, in my head, you are an artist."

His eyes narrowed, but not in suspicion or anger. "Really?"

"Yeah," I insisted. "I think you could apply to a good art school."

His face changed, like he seemed overwhelmed.

"So, when did you draw that one of..." My voice trailed, unable to mention myself. Self preservation made me stop, in case it wasn't a picture of me. Even though it clearly was.

"You?" he breathed, finishing my question. "The night I got home... from the beach."

"And you," I gulped, "drew it from memory?"

He nodded silently.

I was amazed by him. Truly. I took another long sip of my tea as he did the same.

I needed to reroute the conversation again. "So, like I said, art school," I mumbled.

There it was again-the overwhelmed expression.

"It's probably too late for all that now," I amended, "but maybe next year. You should have your work photographed or scanned. Build your portfolio," I suggested. "Post it online. If you do it now, you won't be scrambling to apply for schools later."

His head flinched back. "Schools?"

"Yes, schools."

He seemed to hesitate before he responded. "I wasn't really planning on going."

"Why not? I think you have a shot. And if you build a site with all your work, I think it would help a lot with your college applications."

He gave a small grin. "Like you?"

I flinched. "What do you mean?"

"Your portfolio site."

"What do you know about my portfolio?"

"Rachelblackphotography dot com? Come on. Not hard to find."

"Yeah, but it's more like a love and a hobby. It wasn't what I majored in."

He threw his head back in shock. "It wasn't?"

"No."

"I could've sworn you told me that."

"No," I sighed. "You assumed."

"So, then what was your major?"

"Computer Engineering."

"Whoa," he groaned, cringing.

His reaction amused me. "I know, not very interesting. But I'll be making bank."

"Do you like it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Sure."

"I mean, you seem to love photography. Why didn't you just do that?"

"It was my minor," I said.

"Hmm. Well, you have some bad ass work," he said.

"Thanks," I breathed. "But you do, too."

He gazed at me for a long moment, no words uttered between us. A slight smile grew but nothing like his usual boastful way. It was sweet, timid, and humble. Almost vulnerable.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm good. It's just..." He squirmed in his seat, looking away for a tiny moment before his eyes turned to me. "No one really says things like that to me."

"It's no big deal," I told him, shrugging it off and taking a sip of my latte. "Just the truth."

"I think you were wrong in the beginning," he stated.

I swallowed a spicy, warm sip of my tea before I asked, "About what?"

"I think you're the perceptive one."

The word brought me back to the beach... to the moment that lead up to the kiss. I felt my cheeks grow hot, so I decided to shake myself out of it, putting an image of my dad in my head. I shrugged. "I don't know. You seem not to miss anything about me."

He shook his head. "That's only because I pay attention."

I felt a pang of longing for him at his statement, like even when he was sitting a couple feet away, he was suddenly too far from me. "I really don't know why you would. I'm nothing special."

His eyes tightened, the thick brows above them scrunching in both confusion and disagreement. "Yeah, that's not true."

"Whatever," I scoffed.

His mouth opened with something to say, but he shut it again, his eyes trailing elsewhere.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Tell me what you were about to say," I demanded but was met with a shake of his head. I leaned in to be further in his line of sight. "I want to know." I searched his eyes, but they weren't on me for once.

He kept his eyes on the stack of napkins on the table. "No, you don't."

I leaned down to get into his line of sight. "Try me."

As his chocolate stare switched to me, deep and relentless, I felt as I did when he first looked at me on the beach that first night. The pull. Damn that pull.

"You love with all your heart, which is why you worry so much like you do. About Jake. About your dad. Always concerned about everyone. "

"Yeah, but-"

"You're even so concerned about Leah, which says a lot." He chuckled, and I had to laugh along with him.

"She's my friend. Be nice."

He chortled harder. "Man, you're one great person to put up with that shit."

I widened my eyes at him. "Paul!"

He raised his hands in a cease fire. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"What concern is that, anyway?" I argued. "I moved away from my dad, who's in a wheelchair. My brother, who is now missing. My best friend, who is now without a father and a boyfriend. I can't stand to be here because of the memories that hurt too much, and the guilt of abandoning everyone chokes me when I'm not here."

He clucked the roof of his mouth with his tongue before I was finished with my last statement. "What? You didn't abandon anyone. First of all, your brother isn't missing as I've told you before. Secondly, Billy is capable of living his life with little help. And we both know why you left, but no one can blame you for that. Its only part of your big heart - that it hurts that you're here. But let me ask you something... why did you stay in state? Why didn't you go somewhere far like Hawaii, like Rebecca did?"

I was stumped. "I don't know. I was accepted there, at Washington State."

"But that's not why you went, is it? You could've gone anywhere, I bet. You could've gone to New York, Canada, Europe. Hawaii, like your sister. You didn't think to apply further away, did you?"

"Well... no, not really." I stared back at him, blankly. "What's your point?"

"Point is, though you needed your distance from... losing her, you still stayed close by. As close as Pullman is, anyway. But you did it because you still wanted to be counted upon."

"Funny, I always thought I was a bit selfish about what I did," I admitted softly.

He pressed his lips into a tight line as he shook his head again. "So, maybe you did move eight hours away. So what? You were still closer, because that's you. Responsible."

"What do you mean?"

"Deep down, I think you still want to be there. Accessible if there's an emergency. Ready if you ever changed your mind about visiting. Though you lessened the pain by separating yourself, you still love everyone else so much that you made sure you were still around. I mean, look at you now. No matter how much it hurts, you still visit."

I was startled at his analysis of me.

His large shoulders gave a casual shrug as he simply stated, "You still stayed in Washington."

I stared at him, astounded. I couldn't form a coherent sentence. All this time, I'd viewed myself as faulty. Completely selfish. Feeling guilty for fleeing from my dad and my brother. From my friends. Meanwhile, here was Paul's take on how I lived my life. A completely new perspective. "Wow."

"Sorry; I didn't mean to make any wrong assumptions if I did." He shrugged again. "But I can't help it. I'm just callin' it like I see it."

My hand went to my neck, following its slope as my eyes traced the lines of the table that separated me from Paul.

"I told you that you didn't want to know."

"I just don't know if I agree-"

"But that's what I see," he interjected. "And I don't think you're selfish. I think you're just human. You feel with all of yourself. You live like my older brother does, with a passion. You hate with all of yourself, feel loss with all of yourself, and love with all of yourself. If you were to ever hurt, you hurt all over, though I don't care to ever see that happen to you."

And in that moment, as those large, coffee colored eyes locked with mine, my heart thrummed and doubled in speed. In that fragment, I was able to forget my issues with his age or the past. It was amazing how he could find the very best in my situation - a situation that I found myself completely self-centered and weak. It was easy to think that way, feel better about myself, and how I'd handled the last few years. I was baffled at how he took a positive spin on it. But then, maybe he was just completely blinded by his little infatuation with me that he started to see things that weren't there.

In the back of my mind, I could almost admit he'd be the perfect guy for me. It would be so easy to just forget the child he once was and recognize the man before me. Get lost in those chocolate eyes and fall in love with him. If he was at least my age, maybe even a year younger than me, I'd be all right with it. I would be able to see a future with him. If he was only a few years older.

But he wasn't.

And I wasn't about to fall in love with a high school kid.

I shook myself out of it as I heard a bunch of kids enter the coffee shop, coincidently looking like they were from the local high school. A further reminder that I couldn't let this happen, no matter how easy it felt between us.

The moment was over.

I cleared my throat and managed to pull away from his stare. "Anyway," I said, breaking the silence, my voice changing into something more professional, a little more detached. "Going back to your work; I think you should consider art school. Too much talent is a waste if you don't use it."

"Still don't ever hear that from anyone else," he muttered.

I bit my lip, realizing I shouldn't pay him such compliments. Not ones that he may misconstrue as an interest in him. I took a sip of my latte again, resolved at the decision. It wouldn't be good to lead him on.

He put down his tea, staring at his hands, and smiled to himself. "I'd have to say this is the best date I've ever been on." He lifted his eyes to meet mine.

I flinched at his statement, choking on the latte. "Date?"

"Yes," he answered, his face sheepish. "Date."

Huh. Further proof that I shouldn't do or say anything to lead him on. I shook my head profusely. "This is _not_ a date." A humorless chuckle escaped from me through the statement, and I hated how much it sounded like denial.

His curious face revealed that he was on the same idea. "Well, what is it then?"

"I don't know," I replied. "But I know what this _isn't_."

He folded his arms, his grin once again cocky and smug.

I continued on the thought anyway. "A date requires some premeditation and careful planning. A guy asking the girl out, deciding on a place and time, picking her up, going out, spending some time-good or bad-and then taking her home." I narrowed my eyes at his growing smile. "I don't get your stupid grin. None of this meets the criteria."

He tilted his head to the side. "So, what's your idea of a 'good' date then? Dinner and a movie?"

I shook my head. "No, not really."

He balked, his eyes growing wide in surprise. "Really? I would think that would be a great date."

"Well dinner and a movie is sort of cliché. I'd be more interested in something off the beaten path. Something different."

He looked at me as if he was eager for me to continue.

"Besides," I continued, "movies don't give you a chance to get to know someone. You're stuck watching the movie and being quiet. You don't get to speak with him. Engage in conversation. You can do that better over a drink... or a cup of coffee-"

"Kinda like what we're doing now?" he asked, cutting me off.

I clamped my mouth shut, realizing I'd let it run unintentionally. I shook my head, another chuckle leaving my mouth, but this time because I was uncomfortable. "How did we get to this subject, anyway?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess because it kinda feels like one to me." His eyes tightened with curiosity. "You don't think so?"

"I..." I stuttered for a moment. "I think you should call Stan's." I answered, deflecting the question with success. "I'm sure my car is ready."

He looked a little let down, but he wiped the face away and put on a smile. "Anything you want," he said, already dialing on his cell phone.

I wasn't comfortable answering the question, because the truth was, I was having a wonderful time. Probably the best time ever. Better than any real date I'd ever been on. But I wasn't about to let that be known.

"All right, thanks," Paul said on the phone. I hadn't realized I'd tuned out of his whole conversation. "It's ready."

The ride back to Stan's was quiet and tense. I was afraid to say anymore, to lead him on anymore. But most of all, I was afraid I was beginning to believe it myself. That this was a date. That I actually enjoyed myself, and that I actually, truly loved his company.

It wasn't until about twenty-some minutes into our drive that things changed. With so many advertisements on the station I'd changed his radio to, he eventually changed the station back to his own.

I recognized the song as Paul began sing along, "Girl, I'm in love with you, but this ain't the honeymoon, past the infatuation phase..." His voice, which surprisingly could carry a nice tune, was softer at first but was growing more pronounced as the lyrics went on.

I knew the song by heart. It was "Ordinary People," by John Legend, which Paul continued to sing with reckless abandon.

To my surprise, I found myself humming along until the bridge where I began to actually sing out the lyrics with him. "I still put you first, and we'll make this thing work, but I think we should take it slow..."

He stopped singing as I sang out loud, the corners of his lips stretching upwards in elation, a chuckle coming from his mouth. And then we both began:

"We're just ordinary people. We don't know which way to go. Cuz we're ordinary people. Maybe we should take it slow."

The tension in the air eased quickly as the song went on, and I could feel the awkwardness-my careful reservation-melt away from me.

I laughed so hard, so genuinely, as the song came to a close. We both did. And I knew we had something special, even if all I would ever allow was a friendship between us.

As we turned off from the 101 onto LaPush Road, I couldn't believe the sudden loneliness I felt within me at the thought that I had to be separated from him. I was beginning to realize he felt the same way, being uncharacteristically quiet as he walked with me to Stan's.

After paying at the counter, he walked me out to my car, already waiting with my keys inside.

We paused next to my driver's door. "Thank you," I breathed, "for today."

He shook his head slightly, a small grin on his face. "No problem."

"Not just for the coffee but for... being there."

His breath came out in an unsteady exhale before answering. "Anytime."

His eyes. His eyes were the most compelling pair of eyes I'd ever looked into, with the many shades of brown from a light toffee to a ground espresso bean. His thick, black lashes were a lovely canopy above them, with a strong brow bone and thick, black brows that have now curled in deep concentration. On me.

Like they seem to always be.

His hand lifted to my face, and though I slightly flinched, it slowed, gently tucking a strand of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear.

My eyes shut at the contact of his finger against my skin, goose bumps rising on my skin at the contact. It was the smallest touch, yet I couldn't understand how it could affect me so.

"Thanks," I mumbled, my voice barely audible.

His answering grin was sweet and sincere, lacking the arrogance that he sometimes exuded.

Shaking myself out of it, I leaned in for a friendly hug goodbye, but was sadly taken by surprise as my move towards him was misconstrued.

It happened quickly, yet somehow, I experienced it all in slow motion. He leaned in, his mouth just inches from mine, his body radiating heat. My nose filled with his light, yet pleasant scent of wood and spice. I could feel his heat on my skin almost. And I knew he was trying to go in for a kiss.

And I wanted it.

I wanted to kiss him again. Taste him again.

Get lost in him again.

A horn went off on a nearby truck as a Volvo almost backed into it. Successfully pulling me out of this trance, I was able to pull away from him.

Clearing my throat, I stepped back. "Thank you, again."

Frustration was evident on his face, yet he still nodded out of understanding. "Like I said, no problem," he choked out.

"I'll see you around," I muttered.

"Yeah, I'll see you soon." Though his voice was shaken, there was a great confidence in what he said. He held the door forward, leaning in right before he shut the door. "Drive safely."

"Thanks, I will." It took all of me not to look back when I drove away, a tightness building in my chest. It scared me to realize that I may be growing an attachment to the boy. One that I could feel like a giant oak tree growing roots and establishing itself in the soil that was my gut.

The car drove fine, with a nice sturdy, new tire. I, however, drove in a daze. It had been a long day, where I ironically felt hardly much happened, but so much was accomplished.

I'd finally gone to see my mother. I'd finally let myself remember all that was tied to losing her, and I was able to begin to ask for forgiveness for not being around. For not coming sooner. I was beginning to realize that running may have never been the answer... that facing the loss was. That facing the hurt was. That in doing so, I could heal. And healing was essential.

It had taken me by surprise that of all people in my life, it took a boy who was close to a stranger to me to help me see that. A boy who I used to sit, who'd stuck gum in my hair. Who had now grown to be a young man of true worth. A boy whom I now considered a friend.

Though I couldn't let myself give into the obvious attraction I had for him, I could certainly be his friend.

I put down my purse on the counter and realized I was parched again. I poured a nice glass of iced tea from the fridge.

The phone rang as I took a long pull of my drink. Wiping my mouth with my backhand, I answered. "Hello?"

There was a short pause before the other line responded. "Uh... Rachel?"

A voice I didn't recognize. "Yes, this is she. Who's this?"

"Yeah, it's, uh, Paul." I heard a nervous throat clearing.

My heart kicked up the beat at the sound of his voice. "Oh, hi," I said, without thinking, a smile growing on my face automatically.

"Hey."

In the awkward silence that followed, I was able to shake off my smile and cheesy thrill of a boy calling me at home. "Did you need something? To speak to my dad?"

"Um, nah, I don't need to talk to Billy."

"Oh," I breathed, my heartbeat kicking up in speed. I knew full well that he was calling for me. I bit my lip, realizing I needed to be straight with him. "Look, Paul. We... we're friends, right?"

"Uh, sure."

"And nothing more." I needed to make sure he understood where we stood. I couldn't be too sure that anything was more than what it was, though it was hard for me to put a name to all the time we'd spent this day. But I knew. I didn't want to lead him on and be like Sam was to Leah. Or Isabella was to Jake. "Right?"

A forced chuckle came through the receiver. "Yeah, you, uh, made that very clear at your car earlier."

"Good, because I don't want you to-"

"Chill out, girl," he cut me off. "Just checking to see if your car works okay and that you got home safely."

"Oh. Um, yeah, it's all good. I'm home."

Awkward silence.

There was a part of me that was suddenly desperate to find something to say to keep him on the phone for longer. Some part that didn't want this to end.

No, I grumbled to myself, resolved.

"Yeah," I said again. "I'm all good." My tone was final, ending the conversation.

I heard a small chuckle, the sound unbelievably sexy. "Good."

"Good," I said, feeling completely lame. "Is there anything else you needed?"

"No. That was it," he answered quickly. "Good night, Miss Black."

"Good night."

I shook my head at the house phone as I put it down on the receiver. And then I found myself giggling.

Just giggling in secret, like a little twelve year old with a crush on the boy in the next seat. I looked up at the window and could see my reflection, a big smile across my face. I tried to straighten out my face and calm down my mood, but I was unable to shake the goofy grin on my face.

The phone rang again, and on instinct, I answered with, "I promise you, I'm good."

"Uh... okay?"

I sucked in a breath. It wasn't Paul's voice. It was a young woman's.

"Rachel?"

Ah, yes, my sister. "Rebecca?"

"Yeah... I tried calling, but you didn't answer your cell, so I called the house. Left a message and all. Did you not get it?"

"Oh," I answered, realizing there was a yellow post it with a quick scribble that Becky had called. "And there it is. Sorry, I didn't see it earlier." Mindlessly, I picked up the sticky note and realized it was stuck to a fancy envelope. Curiously, I lifted the flap of the seemingly conspicuous piece of mail, which had already been opened. It was a wedding invitation to Isabella and Edward's wedding.

"It's all right, I guess. Just calling to say hi. Well, really, I was calling on an update to Jake's whereabouts. But I thought to say hi anyway."

"Ah, okay, well, hey," I said. "Jake still isn't-"

"Yeah, I know," Becky said. "Dad told me."

Determined not to stick to such a difficult topic, I decided to ask her, "So, what are you up to this week?"

"Not much. School's coming up, so I had to go buy books."

"Something I won't be missing," I bragged, spotting my cell phone on the counter and shoving it into my pocket.

"Pfft." I could practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone. "Ugh, I hate you."

"Maybe, but you also wish you were me, too," I teased.

"Whatever, dude."

I laughed.

"Hmm, what's up, sis?" she asked, her tone curious and pressing.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know; you sound...chipper. Happy. And a little jumpy."

That took me by surprise. "I ... do?"

"Yes," she insisted. "What's going on? Did you meet anyone?"

"I-uh-no," I said quickly.

"You can try to lie better than that, Raych."

"Of course not," I denied. "Who could I possibly meet out here in Forks?"

"Oookay."

"So, what are you doing?" I asked, sidetracking the subject.

"Laundry." She sighed.

"Ooh," I said. "Exciting."

"Yeah, well, not much excitement after marriage. Not until you have kids, I guess, but you know me, not ready for that just yet."

"Really?" I challenged, lightly. "You haven't changed your mind? Solomon's not itching for a little boy? I'm sure Dad would love a grandkid."

"Rachel, we're not even twenty one yet. Don't be crazy."

I chuckled. "Okay."

"There is something very different about your tone," she noted again. "You're never this happy, especially when you're home."

Well, I couldn't argue with that. "True."

"So?" Becky pressed.

I sighed in frustration. "So, nothing. Really, it's nothing."

"What's this I hear about you spending time at the Lahotes?"

My heart stopped. Leave it to Becky to get straight to the point. "It was nothing. I was stranded on the road with a flat. Paul helped." There was no reason to go into detail about my day. None at all.

"Paul? You mean the short, stocky douchebag that used to bully Jake around?"

I cleared my throat. "Uh, yeah, that one," I answered quickly.

I could hear her distaste, even through the phone. "Stubby. That's the right word for it. He was stubby. Annoying and stubby." My sister was very opinionated and open about her opinions. She shared them quite frequently. Sometimes too much.

I cleared my throat again, wondering if I had a nervous tick. "He's actually grown up a lot," I corrected her quickly. "But, uh, you're right. Annoying," I said, my mood taking a nose dive.

"It's hard to imagine him grown up. Jake and all his other friends, maybe. But not that kid."

I thought about Paul's rugged features, the chiseled bone structure of his face, and the straight cut of his jaw line. All supported by that powerful wall of muscle that was his body. Oh, how she was missing out on so much. How she didn't know the half. Ignoring her last statement, I finished with, "Anyway, they were busy in the shop, so I killed time at their place." There was no reason to elaborate. At all.

"Ah, okay. God, I'm so sorry. I couldn't stand that kid. Spending time all day at that house must've sucked."

"Uh, yeah," I agreed, suddenly feeling foolish. I cleared my throat yet again. "Neither can I." As I looked at myself in the reflection of the window, I saw that my smile had disappeared.

I had to be realistic, and a high school kid was not the answer to my love life.

I swallowed, shaking my head and allowing my sister's opinion of him to kick my ass back into the real world.

"Neither can I."

Leah and I spent Saturday in Seattle, just a quick day trip that began early in the morning. We met up with Dana and showed her around to the best shopping down town-Pike Place and all the shopping in the surrounding areas. Though I would like to think Leah had a good time, I felt like she held back a lot, like there was something deep within her that didn't allow her to enjoy herself to the fullest.

Maybe I was missing it, but there was definitely something, even as she laughed and sighed and seemed to savor the girl's day out, that she had other things on her mind.

I was laughing as Dana had stepped back into her dressing room, having just tried on the most ridiculous ensemble from the 80s.

"Leah," I called in her direction. "How are you doing with that dress?"

"I'm almost out, don't get your panties in a wad," she grumbled.

She stepped out in a strapless, black number that was cut lovely against her body. It finished in a knee-length pencil skirt, a slit in the back.

"That looks fabulous on you," I said.

Her eyes rolled. "I don't really need it, though," she protested, stepping reluctantly in front of a three-way mirror.

I walked up behind her, placing my hands on her shoulder. "Don't be silly. Every girl needs a little black dress. You never know what event would come up."

"In La Push? Come on. I'd look ridiculous in this number showing up to a Potlatch."

I smirked. "Depends on whose Potlatch."

I noted the tattoo on her arm. Leaning to the side to get a look at the intricate sphere of art, I asked, "Leah, when'd you get that?"

Leah's hand came up immediately, covering it and concealing it from me. "It's nothing. Just ... something I did this winter when I was bored."

It was familiar somehow, but I couldn't place where I'd seen it last. "Where have I seen that before?"

"I don't know." Her voice was dismissive as she stepped away from the mirror and headed towards the dressing room.

After getting our fill of American Apparel, H&M, and Nordstrom, we said goodbye to Dana and headed back to the Forks area.

We pulled up to the Clearwater residence. I got out of the car, oblivious to the other automobiles parked on their street. As I walked up to their front door, I froze, unable to breathe. I recognized the car parked directly across the street-a red-striped white mustang. As well as more automobiles that belonged to the young ones of our tribe.

"Looks like they're all here early," Leah muttered under her breath. "What joy." She must've noticed my reaction to the cars because then she said, "You don't have to come in if you don't want."

I cleared my throat. "Uh, I think I need to get back to my dad anyway."

"Well he's actually on his way over. They're having the Tribe's Council Meeting tonight at our house."

"Did you want to go somewhere else then?" I asked, knowing that most council meetings were secret. Growing up, none of us but our fathers were able to go. Eventually, they allowed Sam to go, but that was right before I left for college.

"Actually, I have to stay for it."

My eyebrows shot up in shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. We all do, actually." She couldn't say that sentence without rolling her eyes.

As if on cue, the front door burst open, Quil, Embry, Jared, and Seth stepping out. As we exchanged our hellos, I felt that gravity again toward the front door, and I looked up. By now, however, I didn't need to look to see who was there.

My eyes met the dark brown ones that I shouldn't love to see but was beginning to realize I couldn't resist.

"Hey," he breathed, a small grin growing on his face.

"Hi, Paul," I said, my voice small, shrinking into myself as he walked toward me.

He approached with ease, his smooth gait slightly concealed by his jeans. I suddenly missed the shorts-and-shirtless look. "Sup?" he asked casually, but the voice was silky as ever. He placed a good distance between us, and though there were many conversations going on at the same time between the guys and Leah, all I saw and heard was him.

I shrugged, unable to resist smiling back. "Just got back from Seatown."

"Cool," he said, nodding casually. "You here for the council meeting?"

"Nah," I said, shaking my head.

"I'll be back; I'm just going to put this down," Leah said, holding up her shopping bags.

I nodded an okay to Leah before turning back to Paul.

Paul smiled, his head tilting as his chocolate gaze studied me. "You look... happy," he noted. "Feeling better?'

I nodded, considering the way he saw me last. Worrying over my brother. Crying over my mother. "I am," I answered, actually believing it.

"Good," he muttered, seeming genuinely pleased. "It shows."

I smiled, tearing my eyes away from him bashfully as he regarded me carefully with his own.

He leaned against the porch rail, folding his heavy arms against his wide chest. "You sure you can't stick around for the meeting? All of us'll be here."

I considered it, but the truth was, I wasn't all too interested. I was, however, realizing I was too interested in the individual before me, and I needed to resist. "Uh, I don't think I was invited."

"You don't need to be invited," he corrected me.

"I'm hardly a member of the council. Those meetings were never open ended when it came to guests," I argued. "At least, not that I can remember."

He stepped towards me. "Things've changed," he said.

"If she's not ready, don't force her," Leah interjected, appearing on my right after putting down her shopping bag somewhere in the house.

"Ready?" I asked, turning to her, confused.

She gave Paul a look that I didn't understand, but she quickly wiped it away with a smile. "Ready to be bored out of your mind," she explained. She said it with a little deflecting chuckle and a teasing eye roll, but I couldn't help but think there was something more behind her exchange with Paul.

"Am I missing something?" I asked, a bit annoyed.

Leah was quick to answer, her voice almost forceful. "No. Like I said," she continued, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're more than welcome to stick around, but only if you want."

Paul rolled his eyes at Leah and turned back to me, motioning with his head into the house. "Come on. Stay," he pressed. "You can be my guest. No one will argue with that, will they?" he asked, turning his head and meeting the eyes of everyone standing around.

They all shook their heads at him. He turned to me. "See."

"Paul, Leelee's right," I heard a deep voice say from behind me, and in the corner of my eye, I saw Leah slightly shiver with anger. Probably at the voice. Or maybe the voice uttering the nickname that once was a term of endearment between them. "She's welcome to attend, but let's not make her do anything she's not ready-er-interested in doing."

I turned to see Sam's tall form walking forward from the street. "Hey," I said, though my own voice didn't sound as thrilled.

"Hi, Rachel. Nice to see you again."

I nodded. "You, too." It was a mechanical response.

He turned to my friend. "Hi, Leah."

She simply nodded, not meeting his eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line.

He walked through the door with a sigh, a couple of the guys following him. I couldn't help but notice the regret in his body language. For a moment, I could totally see that he actually still cared about Leah, though he clearly made his choice.

Paul lingered beside Leah and me. "Billy's on his way over," he stated, his voice cutting through the awkward moment. "You'd be coming home to an empty house."

"Actually, I don't mind that," I countered. Turning to Leah, I continued. "I really should go and put my new clothes away. Catch up on my reading."

"Reading?" he asked.

"Yes. _The Half-Blood Prince_."

"Harry Potter?" He looked shocked. "You can't just wait till the movie comes out?"

I laughed. "I like to read books before I watch the movie."

"You'll have to excuse him," Leah said. "Paul doesn't read. He doesn't know how."

"Can it, woman," Paul spat out.

I chuckled. "All right, I'll see you guys later." I went to hug Leah goodbye, but somehow, on reflex, I turned from her toward Paul in the same manner, ending up in his arms.

He took advantage of the opportunity, one arm wrapping around my shoulders and bringing me towards him. He was a wall of warmth, strength, and the most pleasant, spicy woodsy scent. I suddenly had an instinct that I could stay in his arms forever.

I lifted an arm to pat him on the back awkwardly before pulling away quickly and clearing my throat. "Bye," I barely whispered.

"Bye, Rachel," he responded, his voice just as hoarse.

I didn't realize I was sprinting to my Corolla. I was just there all of the sudden, key in the ignition, and pulling out into the street.

It was only then that I was able to admit that Thursday, I needed him. I needed him to help calm my anxiety over Jacob. I needed him to help me get over my fears of visiting my mother's grave. He was the friend that I needed for those reasons. I had to be sure, however, that I didn't confuse the friendship with anything more, no matter what feelings stirred within me when I saw him.

_Friends_, I told myself as I drove away and fought the urge to look back at him as he no doubt watched me drive way. _Just friends._

He was too young for anything more.

Sunday arrived quickly, and my dad had left for Isabella Swan's wedding.

He seemed to have a halo of relief that surrounded him as I helped him secure his tie around his collar earlier that day. There was a hint of a smile on his face that seemed to have a reason behind it that I doubt had anything to do with the wedding.

"What's with you, Dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem, I don't know. Happy?"

He sighed, a positive sound. "I just feel that today is going to be a good day." His dark eyes, seeming ancient and completely full of wisdom, locked onto mine. "Everything is going to be great, now, Rachel. You'll see."

"Uh, okay?"

"Say, can you hand me my jacket?"

I didn't press further. As I was growing up, he'd always say something cryptic once in a while. He, Harry, and old Quil always did. I never understood it, but then, I never cared about it, either. I had to admit that it was also strange that now the crowd that both Leah and Paul affiliated with spoke the same way. I chose not to let it bother me, though, considering I wouldn't be here for much longer.

I'd helped him into a suit and tie and wished him a good time. I even tried to mean it. It was hard for me to hide the awkwardness that I was experiencing, considering he was going to watch the reason for my brother's absence-Jacob's so-called unrequited "love" - get married to someone else. My God, it was the lone reason why he was gone in the first place.

The girl was the reason for his absence.

Although, there wasn't much I could say. It was as much Jacob's choice to leave as it was Isabella's choice to marry another. Dad had every right to be there for his best friend, and Charlie Swan was a good man.

"So, how do I look?" he asked, smoothing out the lapels of his jacket and straightening his tie. His long hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and though his age was apparent, I could see the handsome young man my mother feel helplessly for.

A smile crept at my lips. "Perfect, Dad. Just perfect." I leaned in to kiss him on his forehead.

"Good," he breathed. "But now, I better get going. I just got a call from a very nervous Charlie."

By the time I helped him into his truck, I was in better spirits about it. I was, after all, in a better place about Jacob's absence, with the help of my new friend.

Like an idiot, I smiled at the thought of Paul, but his words stayed with me the most. _He's a bit of a twerp, and a big tool sometimes, but the thing is, he's strong. Perfectly able to take care of himself. He's got a good head on his shoulders and his own mind. A stubborn mind at that. And when he's ready to come around, he will._

It was strange that his confidence in Jake was what helped me to be okay with my brother's departure. Not my father's. Not Leah's. But Paul's. Definitely a friend to keep, if anything at all.

In an attempt to keep myself occupied, I decided to wash my car, and as I finished wiping it down, my eyes wandered to the barn on our property. I hadn't been inside the structure in years, so I decided to peek inside and see what my brother was up to, since I knew he'd taken over. I stepped into the old space that was now my brother's self-made garage. I was surprised to see what seemed to me like a full collection of tools and parts. I was also surprised to see a bike- an old, black Harley. I hadn't realized my brother was into bikes, let alone owned one.

I considered briefly that maybe I didn't know him anymore. Not well enough to know exactly what he'd been going through. Not enough to consider the thoughts and feelings that lead to his departure. And didn't that just make me feel guilty all over again.

As I made my way back into the house, I peaked inside Jacob's pride and joy, his Rabbit. The little red automobile was all he could talk about last year on the phone when I called. It was strange to me that he would pick up and leave without his car, his pride and joy. He'd worked on it and fixed it up on his own.

If my dad, Leah, and most especially, Paul, hadn't placated me about Jacob's absence, my mind would be spinning right now. The fact that he could leave such things behind was beyond me, but their confidence in his return was something I needed to have faith in.

I walked back into the house and decided to start on dinner for myself. I contemplated calling Leah to ask what she was doing tonight, but then I figured I'd bothered her enough yesterday. Instead I decided to fire up my iTunes and lay in bed.

Checking my email, I received the biggest surprise ever. There was a note from an IT firm, Blooms Rogers Arrington in Portland, with a job offer as an Information Technology Engineer. My heart fluttered like a humming bee's wings, full of excitement as I read the letter. It was for a decent amount of $41k a year and offered an option to work from home. Attached was a PDF of the official offer letter, but it also stated that the letter will be sent to my home address here in LaPush via FedEx.

I'd forgotten all about it. Bloom Rogers came to my school at a campus career fair. I'd submitted my resume, and they were so impressed that they interviewed me on the spot. However, that was months ago, and I was sure, after all this time, that I didn't get the job.

I threw myself back on the air mattress, collapsing flat on my back, clutching my stomach. For some reason, it was doing flips that I couldn't understand.

My throat grew tight, and an aching loneliness crept over me.

But why?

I got a job!

I should've been happy about this. Ecstatic. Jumping for joy.

Yet, somehow, the thought of leaving home filled me with an emptiness that I'd never felt before.

Somehow, I couldn't stand to move to the city.

And somehow, I knew the reason why and didn't want to admit it to myself.

Only, when I shut my eyes, all I could see was the reason.

All I could see was Paul's gorgeous face.

A lump materialized in my throat and grew to suffocate me at the thought. I hid underneath my covers, burying myself in my quilt, hoping it would pass.

Eventually, I fell into a nap, drifting in and out of sleep.

Unsure of whether I was dreaming or not, I heard someone running, cutting across the property at an alarming rate-at a speed that wasn't normal. And then I heard someone at the front door fiddling with the lock. I began to freak out.

Who the hell could that be?

It wasn't Dad. His car wasn't here, and he'd never leave the wedding, because it was five-thirty. I knew the ceremony would still be going on.

Alarmed, I sat up and was on my feet in a flash.

I was trembling in fear, but there was no way I was going to be a coward during this break in. I heard the person picking the lock of our door, and I snuck up, hiding behind the frame. I grabbed the broom stick, my fingers wrapping around at the base, right above the bristles, lifting it above my head, shivering at my joints. My body was full of nervous, jumpy adrenaline.

As I got ready to take a swing at the tall figure looming in the doorway, I heard a familiar voice.

"Whoa!" The intruder's arms were out, shielding himself in anticipation of my swing. "Chill out, Raych. It's just me."

My breathing stopped.

The cadence. The huskiness. I knew that voice anywhere. My heart ceased to beat.

It was a moment before I could choke out his name.

"Jake?"

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**Chapter End Notes:**

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Thanks for reading!

Be sure to follow me on twitter achelle131 for updates, or find me in the twilighted forum under "achelledenalicullen."

For teasers and discussion on this story, please visit the Hungry Like the Wolf (HLW) thread on the forums under FanfictionBreaking Dawn.


	6. Chapter 6: Dismissal

**Author's Notes:**

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**Playlist:**

Bruno Mars – Grenade

Alanis Morrisette – Can't Deny

John Mayer – Gravity

Jon B. – They Don't Know

Adel – Love Song

Mint Condition – Pretty Brown Eyes

**Quileute Words and Phrases:**

_Hach chi-í_ – Good morning

_Ayásochid _ -How are you, said to a woman

_Háchli, ho_ – I'm good/well

**Author's note: **I know you all are waiting for the lemons. They're coming up sooner than you think!

**Special thanks, of course, to my beta, LauraWesley.**

_**To adhere better to the Terms of Service at FFnet, I am revising my smutty chapters here, and keeping them less explicit. They will now be rightfully fitting into the M-rated category (rather than MA). Please read my stories on Twilighted for the full explicit version. You may find the link to the story on my profile.**_

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**Chapter 6: Dismissal**

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Jacob.

He wasn't recognizable. His hair was misshapen and long but not in a good way. He stood in the doorway in rumpled, dirty shorts and tattered Converse sneakers. He was filthy and smelled like dirt and sun and air.

But he was here.

My fingers let go of their rigid hold on the broom. I tackled him, throwing my arms around his huge frame. "Jake!" And in my moment, all of my despair and worry drifted away, that I could feel my baby brother against me and knew that he was safe. It took me a while to get past the realization that I was on my tip-toes and not even able to even reach my chin to his shoulder.

His arms came around me securely, a chortle leaving his mouth and into my hair. "Hey, sis."

My head buried in his chest, and a trembling exhale left my mouth.

_He's safe_, I thought. Jacob was finally home.

Suddenly, I pulled away, shoving him with the flats of my palms against his gigantic chest.

"What the hell, Rachel?"

"You stupid ass!" I blurted, all my frustration coming out in that one breath.

"What?"

"What'd you have to run away for? You worried the hell out of me and out of Dad! Even Becky's wondering if she should move back." Okay, so the last part wasn't exactly true, but she was still trying her best to get here on nickels and dimes.

He sighed, rolling his neck. I could hear his joints crack. "Well, I'm fine, and I'm back, so it's all good, right?"

Somewhere in the aging lines of his eyes, I saw the young, little boy that was my baby brother peering at me. And I couldn't help but hug him again.

I was reaching as high as I could and completely on my toes just to do so. "I can't get over how tall you are. Did you, like, grow a foot since I last saw you?"

His laugh was muffled against my hair.

I rested my weight back on my heels and took a good look at him. The torn shorts and shoes. The beginnings of a mustache and beard, which totally threw me considering he was my _little_ brother. "Good Lord, child, what have you done to yourself? You're a hot mess."

"Thanks, sis! You really know how to bring on the welcome wagons!"

"Shut up, Jacob! You couldn't at least take care of yourself while you were gone?"

He stared at me for a moment, hesitating.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, his head shaking. "Nothing that you'd understand."

He went straight into his bedroom, or my room as it was, and pulled out a pair of boxers from his dresser.

"Where are you going?"

"Taking a shower."

He made a beeline for the bathroom, practically shutting the door on my face.

While I was happy he was going to take care of his hygiene, I was a little disturbed that he seemed to be in a rush. I hadn't seen him in months. He'd been missing for over eight weeks. Was he going somewhere already, not even five minutes after getting home?

I waited by my-or his, I guess you can say-bedroom door for him to get out of the bathroom. I heard the shower end, and within a few minutes, he stepped out of the room. "So what are you doing tonight? Thought maybe we could stay home and talk or watch a DVD if you don't feel like talking, just like old times."

"Can't. I'm going to a wedding," he replied.

"A wedding?" I watched as he walked to get something out of his closet, not able to look me in the eye.

"How about tomorrow?" he asked, his head between two hangers. "We can watch whatever tomorrow, if you want." He tossed a tie on the bed.

I ignored his effort to deflect my question. "Did you say a wedding?"

He didn't respond, walking back into the bathroom and picking up a razor as his other hand slathered shaving cream on his face.

I stood in his doorway. "Isabella Swan's wedding." It was meant as a question, but my tone was more of an accusation.

He shaved in silence, like I wasn't there, and then rinsed his face quickly.

I stepped out of his way as he grabbed a nice baby blue shirt in his closet. "Isabella's wedding?"

A sharp exhale let out of his mouth, his grip on his shirt's hanger wrinkling the shoulder and part of the collar. "It's Bella," he corrected me, his eyes rolling.

I snorted. "Whatever." I watched him incredulously as he struggled to find something in his closet, still avoiding eye contact. "Jake..."

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, flustered. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"My slacks. They're grey. My only pair."

"I thought you had more."

"None of them fit anymore." I followed him down the hallway as he walked over to the laundry area and found them hanging above the washer. "Aha!"

"Jacob," I breathed as he kept hustling to get ready. He was full of nervous energy, and I knew in his movements there was a lot of reluctance. "Jake, why are you doing this to yourself?"

"So, Dad's filled you in some, I see." He answered without looking at me, throwing on a fresh Hanes undershirt.

"Yes," I stressed, grabbing his wrist. "You left because of her, and you're going to race to see her the first day you're back? God, Jacob, really? You need to get over her. You need to stay home."

He scowled at me. "Who says? This isn't like when we were little, Rachel. You were never the boss of me. Not then and certainly not now."

Ouch. My sister and I filled in as his mother until we left. It was an unsaid but understood truth. He was always respectful as a child. What had changed? Or was it her? Maybe it was unrequited love that caused him to be so rebellious and annoying. "Jacob, you do not need to do anything. You don't owe her anything."

"I can be the bigger man and show up. I can be there for her as her friend, can't I?"

"I don't know, Jake." I tried to look into his eyes, but they wouldn't meet mine. "Can you?"

Ignoring me, he shut his door to change.

But I couldn't help it. I kept next to his bedroom door. "You just got back, Jake. Considering why you left, how could you do this right away?"

I heard a zipper and then a fiddling with metal. He was belting up.

"Jake, please. Talk to me."

There was a long moment of silence before he opened the door again, fully dressed, though his shirt wasn't tucked in, and he seemed to have not bothered with the tie anymore. "You ever thought that maybe I came back for this? Man up and be the friend that she needs me to be?"

"You don't owe anything to her."

His eyes finally met mine, but his face was stern. Wise. Resolved. "You don't know her."

"What has she done for you?"

"She's my best friend."

"And she broke your heart."

There was pain in his eyes for a moment before it disappeared, his expression hard. "Look, you've never met her. You have no right to say any of this."

"I have met her, actually," I corrected him, following him into the bathroom. "When we were younger."

"Well, you don't know her anymore." He took a calming breath before continuing. "I need to do this for her."

"Do you really?" I watched as he put on deodorant and splashed on some cologne.

"Yes." His eyes grew weary as I shook my head. "Raych, it's her _wedding_. I want to do this, say goodbye before..."

"Before what?"

"Before it's too late."

"Wait... are you going to try to stop it?"

"Who? _Me?" _He frowned, as if what I said was completely ridiculous. "No way. She chose this. I just want to be there for her big day. As a friend. Say goodbye. Send her off."

Say good bye? "Is she leaving after the wedding? Moving away?"

A hint of devastation shadowed his face. "In a way, yeah. I guess."

"God, you speak in riddles. All of you do." I remembered the strange things that Paul said once in a while. My dad. Even Leah. I ghosted behind him as he went into the kitchen.

Standing above the trash can, he grabbed the kitchen shears and began cutting away large chunks of his hair.

"Jacob, what the hell?"

"I want to look nice. Now leave me alone." It was a mumble under his breath.

"At least let me help you."

"No, no, I'm good; I can do it," he said, shooing me away with his hand.

I stared helplessly in horror as he snipped uneven tresses from his head. "Jake, please, let me help." I was beginning to realize that I couldn't stop him, so I at least wanted to help him look presentable.

He looked up at me, looking ridiculous with his face surrounded by an asymmetrical mane. "Is it that bad?"

I nodded, but I didn't have to. Something in my face, which probably mirrored the horror I felt as he butchered his hair, told him so. He handed me the scissors, and I ordered him to sit on a dining chair because he was so tall. I made small concise cuts that evened out the long, crazy, jagged strands of hair that he didn't see.

All the while, his head kept turning slightly to the clock, his fingers drumming impatiently against his thighs.

"Just another minute," I assured him.

He tried to stand up a few times, but I forced him down with my hands on his arms. "Will you just wait?" Snip, snip. It wasn't quite even, but it was improving with every cut I made.

Finally, he couldn't take it. He stood up abruptly, brushing the loose pieces of hair from his shoulders. "Sorry, Raych, but I think I'm missing the ceremony."

I followed him as he grabbed his shoes and hopped into them. "Jake, are you sure you really want to-"

He stepped towards the door with me hot on his heels. "I'm late enough as it is. We can talk tomorrow. Promise."

"Jacob-"

"Love you, Raych," he said quickly, pressing his lips to my forehead before darting out the door.

I watched after him as he ran into his garage. I could hear the rumble of an engine being pumped a few times before he zoomed out on his bike, disappearing onto the road. "Love you, too," I whispered.

There was nothing more I could do. Jake was going to do what he wanted to. He'd soon be eighteen, and I wouldn't have any right to anything he did. I had no grounds to tell him what to do now, considering how I'd left the house and moved on with my life.

I cleaned the bathroom and read two chapters of my Harry Potter book, but I was feeling restless, with thoughts of Paul on my mind.

I went to the store to buy some groceries, checking around for any signs of the boy I was trying so hard to avoid. Thankfully, he wasn't around. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, maybe not specifically in the store, but whenever I was outside. It was like the forest had eyes, watching me as I drove through La Push and unloaded the bags from my car. It was a strange feeling that I'd had this current visit home.

I put away my groceries and realized I needed to move my stuff somewhere now that Jake was back to claim his room. I was happier, too, so glad that he was back, even if he was crazy enough to commit emotional suicide at the girl's wedding.

After dragging my air mattress out of Jake's room and into the living room, I hopped online and began looking for one-bedroom apartments in Portland. It wasn't long before the prices and specs of the apartments started to blur, the text and image and white space becoming one fuzzy, flat surface on the screen.

I desperately wanted to talk to someone. About Paul. Someone who could give me an honest opinion with a straight head and not one that was in the clouds. Becky would've been my first choice, but given her feelings about Paul, I just didn't know how to approach the subject with her.

So I called Dana, who was on her way out with some friends in a few hours but was lazily taking her time getting ready.

I mentioned the offer letter, and after a few moments of congratulations and thanks, and a little regret about not being able to live with each other, I figured it was time to bring him up. I cleared my throat nervously. "You have to promise not to be judgmental about what I'm about to tell you. But I need to tell someone."

"Raych, what the hell? When have I ever judged?"

"Just promise," I demanded.

"I promise," she said, an edge of concern in her voice. "Rachel, what's going on? Are you okay, really?"

So, I told her everything. From when I saw him at the beach, and how I feel all over myself at how attractive he was, until I found out who he was, and even then I found him irresistible. The kiss that we shared that still lingered in my mind and on my lips weeks after. The amazing day we spent yesterday.

"Well, I never figured you a cougar but..."

"Very funny," I groaned wryly.

"I'm kidding, girl." A sigh let out from her side. "Really, it's nice to hear you this happy. This... alive."

"Is that really how I sound?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "And quite frankly, I don't get how you can push that away."

At her statement, I recalled his laughing chocolate eyes before reminding myself he still had Homeroom and a locker. "He's seventeen, Dana," I reminded her.

"So? He'll be eighteen before you know it. Besides, didn't you say he looks older?"

As she spoke, I hopped on my computer and shot her an email with one of my photos of him on the beach as she continued on.

"I mean, it's up to you. Your life. But you've been so anti-men so long. Maybe you need to get some and loosen up."

"Dana!"

"What? I'm just saying. Maybe that's it. Maybe you just need to hit that, and get it out of your system."

We both busted out laughing, because it wasn't the kind of thing that I did. Both of us knew that.

"But seriously though, Raych. There's no harm in at least a fling. It's not like you'll stick around."

"I'm not sure if a fling is..." I let my voice trail as the words slipped out before I could stop them. I wasn't sure how to finish that last statement. "Anyway, check your email. I sent you a pic."

She took a moment to log in and download the image. "Oh, _my_ God," she gasped.

"What?"

"This? This _man_ is Paul? The high school boy you've been 'fending off' all this time?"

"Well, yeah,"

"Are you crazy? You're turning _him _away?"

"Not helping, Dana. I just wanted you to understand where I'm coming from."

"I can see where you would _come_ from," she said with an edge of sinister sexual implication.

"Shut up," I groaned.

"God, look at that body. It's _sick_."

"Not helping at all."

She chuckled. "So wait... what were you saying earlier? You're not sure if a fling is... Is what?"

"Nothing. I don't know what I was saying."

Silence for a moment as she thought about this.

Which only meant trouble for me. "Look, don't overanalyze the stupid sentence. I was speaking without thought."

"You were speaking the truth," she concluded. "You're not sure if a fling is enough."

"Yes. No. What? No!" But it was true. A fling wouldn't be enough, not for the uncomfortable flips of my stomach, the lump that threatened to close my throat and keep me from breathing at the thought of leaving him behind.

"Well, what is it you want?" she asked. "Because that's really all that matters here."

"I want... I want..." And I thought about it. Really thought about what I wanted from this. Why I was so desperate to try to make sense of my feelings. "I want not to want him so much." And there it was. "I want not to need him."

"So you're... falling for him?"

"I don't think so."

"Uh huh."

"I mean, we're friends. And he's helped me get through a few things already. Like with Jake and my mom. But friends. That's all we are. What we should be. There can't be anymore than that."

"But you feel more for him, don't you?"

"I don't know. I guess." I groaned, frustrated. "I wish I didn't though."

"Oh, wow, Rachel. You're really falling for him."

"Shut up, shut up," I growled through clenched teeth. "Just please... just...Dana! Help me figure out what I need to do."

"I'm sorry, but if you want to not follow through with any of this, I think you'll have to steer clear from this guy. I mean, you feel this way just after a day of spending time together?"

"It's crazy, I know."

It was a moment before she responded. "The funny thing is, it's not all that crazy. People fall fast all the time."

"Not with high school kids."

"Maybe sometimes with high school kids."

I sighed in resignation.

"Look Raych. It's the only way. You'll get more attached if you see him more often. Cut the ties now. Especially since he seems to have some power over you. Unless that's what you want... to be overpowered. Surrender to it."

"No," I replied. "I can't. No. Jake's classmate. Just, no."

She was quiet on the other end. An unconvinced silence. "Well, there you have it then."

I knew that tone in her voice. She didn't believe me. I had to confirm it anyway. "So, then you agree, I need to stay away."

"To do what you want, which is to not want him. I think you need to put some distance between you and him," she reinforced. "Take the job in Portland. Move on."

"So, you agree that I shouldn't see him. It's what you would do."

"What I would do? What I would do and what advice you're asking of me are two different things."

Oh, so confusing. "How so?"

"I'm giving you advice based on what you really want out of this."

"Well then, what is it that you think? What would you do in my shoes?"

She hesitated for a moment. "You don't want to know."

"Tell me."

She sighed. "Okay. If it were up to me, after all you've said, I think I'd go for the boy."

I flinched away from the phone, taken aback by her thoughts. "Really?" She was right. I really didn't want to hear that, but I kept it to myself. I began to bite on my nail.

"You seem to be happy. You seem to really, really like him. And because of that, I can't judge you for wanting to be with him."

Processing this, I continued gnawing on my nail.

"I want you to be happy. I'm sure if you told Rebecca everything you just told me, and she actually heard you speak about it, she'd agree. She'd want the same for you."

Still processing the thought.

Dana sensed this, so she continued. "But that's not what you're asking me for, is it? You want to know how to not want him."

"Right," I replied, my voice barely audible.

"So, the solution it to stay away. The more distance, the more you can walk away. Less drama. Less confusion."

"Right."

"You know this. Or at least you should. Why do you need me to tell you?"

"I have no idea," I admitted.

"Or is it that you need someone to confirm it for you."

"Maybe that's it."

I heard a sound of a horn honking outside Dana's apartment. "Listen, that's my ride. Call me if you need anything else. And update me."

"I will."

I should've been resolved. I wanted to be. But I couldn't deny that there was a part of me that was heartbroken at the thought of staying away from him.

I found myself at the beach the next day, listening to the quiet surf and taking a couple of seascape shots with my camera. I sat on a tree trunk that had fallen, a natural bench just begging to be used. The lightweight sweater I chose to layer over my tank provided little protection on the morning's brisk sea breeze. At least the denim capris did the job for my legs.

I stared out into the horizon; the grey and green of the Pacific Ocean meeting the pink and yellow of the sky was probably the thing I missed most about home, though I'd only been able to stand this beautiful sight for so long, a sight that my mother, my sister, and I would both share joy in on mornings such as this. But there was a lot on my mind other than my grief for my mother.

I contemplated my future career with Bloom Rogers in Portland. It was a great opportunity-a chance to make it on my own. Why, then, was my heart so heavy? Why, then, was I full of such reluctance? I knew that Fed Ex envelope would arrive later this afternoon. I knew that I needed to make up my mind to sign the offer letter. But I had to look at my life and everyone here that I loved in this small town that I'd grown up in.

I had woken up this morning, worried about my brother, but was immediately calmed when I saw him sprawled across his bed in his room. He looked like he had a long night, and who could blame him, really? I wasn't awake when he must've stealthily crossed the living room where I was sleeping earlier that evening. I had tiptoed into his room, took the blanket that he must've thrown off the bed in his restless slumber, and covered him with it again.

My father had already left for fishing with Charlie, a request that the Chief of Police had made to aide in his heartache for his departed daughter, now a wife to an unnaturally handsome, pasty-white weirdo.

Did they really need me? I was happy that Jacob was home, and my dad had always made by with Jake and Charlie around. Of course, Harry, bless his parted soul, was no longer part of that list, but I was sure my father was well looked after.

Then there was Jake, who had been so heartbroken that he had to flee home. But he was back and faced her wedding, the one thing that was sure to crush him. But he still made it home, unscathed and sleeping soundly as he did when he was a child. Most of all, Jacob was home! The relief that flooded through me the moment I recognized him in the doorway had eased my consciousness greatly.

Leah. Leah was getting by, strong and beautiful, with her head held high in terms of her heartbreak over Sam. Her grief for her father was fresh, but she kept a good head on her shoulders even about Harry.

And last, there was my new friend. My heart stirred at the thought of him, growing heavier with every beat. The thought of separation from Paul was uncharacteristically intolerable, and it made no sense. No sense at all. And I realized I must be going nuts to be longing for something I could never let myself give into. Dana's admission to the fact that she'd go for it if she were in my shoes wasn't helping. It was a tempting thought. So tempting.

Tempting to think that the job offer also gave me the freedom to work remotely. That I could telecommute from anywhere... even here in La Push. But why would I do that? I'd spent so many years trying to avoid this place. I'd made so many choices to evade my homecoming. How could one silly boy change all of that for me?

He'd done what was needed. Eased my mind about Jake. Helped me to face my mother's death head on. I shouldn't need him anymore. There was no reason to, I concluded. That conclusion gave me the hope that I could do this. Suppress that unexplainable loneliness for him and just leave.

It will go away, I told myself. I'll get over it. Get over him.

After a while, I decided to stretch my legs and take a stroll, camera ready to snap a photo of whatever sparked any visual interest. However, it wasn't long before I felt like I was being followed. I turned behind me, a figure of a man walking toward me. I froze, grabbing onto a small brush in my pocket to try to use as a weapon if I needed it.

In just a small moment my alarm dissipated. The man was smiling, and after a few seconds, I recognized Paul. He waved at me as his long stride carried himself closer. He was in jeans, with a brown jacket and a tan t-shirt underneath. "_Hách chi-i_," he greeted me.

I groaned to myself. There was no escaping him. "You know, stalking is a serious offense."

He looked left and right before turning to me with a large grin. "Last I checked, this was a public beach. I've got every right to be here as you do."

I wrinkled my nose. "Well then. I have the right to leave, too."

His hand grabbed onto my forearm. "Don't." He leaned in further, his breath beside my ear. "Please."

My body shivered at his touch without warning. This wasn't helping my resolve to stay away. I let out a sharp exhale. "Came here to be alone. Not very alone if you're here, too."

He stepped forward and turned so he faced me head on. "You don't want my company?"

Your incredibly sexy, dangerously underage company. Yeah, totally. "Not really," I lied.

"Oh, come on," he scoffed in his deep tone. "I haven't seen you in days. Besides, nobody really ever wants to be alone."

I winced in disbelief, my eyebrows scrunching together as I folded my arms across my chest. "That's so not true."

His eyes widened, but his face was still happy and in a smile. "But it is."

A loud sigh of frustration escaped me as I pulled my sweater together. This was not going to help me achieve my goal of getting over him.

His gaze was searching, seeming to look for something in my expression. My guess was he was gauging the sincerity of my request to be alone.

He seemed to find what he was looking for, and with one hint of a sad, reluctant frown on his lips, he nodded once. "All right." He began to walk away.

I watched his form taking steps towards the parking lot. As I watched him walk away, I felt the pull, like a magnet again... like the force of earth's gravity on every object in the world. A pull towards him.

"Wait." The word escaped me before I could even think... my voice laced with reluctance as my mind fought the thought but a pleading that I couldn't help but feel within me. What was this, exactly? Before I could even rationalize an answer, another question shot out of my mouth in a demand. "Where are you going?"

He'd stopped walking and took a moment before he turned himself around to me. "You wanted me to go; I'm leaving."

A pang of unexplainable loneliness settled within my ribcage. "I'm sorry," I called after him for no apparent reason.

There _was_ no reason, no rationale whenever he was around. But I began to realize-even with my brother safely home and asleep in his bed, even when I'd almost made peace with my mother and faced her grave-I needed this young man like a fish needed water.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Because he was just a kid.

A _kid_, I kept reminding myself.

I shut my eyes, not believing what I was about to say, but couldn't find a way to fight it from leaving my lips. "You're right; it's a public beach. I'll quit being selfish and hogging it to myself." As I opened my eyes, I saw that his expression had turned to a mischievous grin. "Do as you want. It's big enough for the both of us."

He turned to smile in response. "You're right."

"What?"

"You were being selfish about the beach."

I turned away, walking the opposite direction of where he was originally headed, toward the rocky part of the beach.

I frowned as I felt him watching me, the sound of his footsteps as he walked behind me.

"What are you doing?" I asked from over my shoulder.

"You said, 'Do as you want.' And... I want to walk here. With you."

Still walking, I let out a sigh, but it sounded more like a groan.

"So, I'm doing just that," he continued.

I shook my head. "You don't take clues very well, do you?"

"Come on, Rachel Black. Take a walk with me."

I shook my head. "You're so..."

"Persistent?" he filled in, with a smile. He took a step forward.

I chuckled humorlessly, talking a step with him. "I was going to say annoying but... potato, pot-tah-to."

He laughed, the sound actually warming me inside. It was the truth that I didn't want to be alone, though I didn't care to admit it. And to have him be the one to give me company? No, I didn't care for his age, but his company was something I couldn't deny that I enjoyed.

_I'll need to sign the offer letter_, I thought to myself, _and sign it immediately. I'll need to say goodbye to him today._

He strolled beside me, keeping my pace. I walked, faced forward, though once in a while, I felt his eyes on me. I couldn't help but switch my glance over to him, as well. If we caught each other, we'd just smile and look away. I couldn't explain why, but his presence was, once again, soothing to me.

"_Ay_á_sochid_?" he asked.

A smile teased at my lips at his Quileute tongue. It sounded so natural. Almost musical. Even sensual. "_H_á_chili, ho_," I answered, though I felt a little lame with a Pale Face accent breaking through.

He grinned. "That's good."

"You?"

"I'm doing good, too." The grin on his face stretching wider, aging lines framing the boyish grin on a man's chiseled, handsome face.

I smiled despite myself. _Snap out of it,_ I told myself.

There was a long measure of peace as we strolled together.

I felt his eyes on me this time. "Something wrong?" he asked, a genuine layer of concern in his silky voice.

"Not really. Just have a lot of thinking to do."

"Anything I could help you with?"

A nervous chuckle left me. "Not really." Because it wasn't helping that he was here. He wasn't helping me at all. "It's just a decision I need to make."

His hand came out to prompt me. "A decision about..."

"A job," I say nonchalantly. "Whether I should take it or not."

"Ah." He nodded. "Is it what you want to do?"

"It is. It's a great opportunity, actually."

"Wow. Well, congratulations." A smile lit up his face.

"Thanks," I said.

He shrugged as he studied my preoccupied expression. "So, what's the issue, if this is what you want? Why not just go for it?"

I just shook my head. It wasn't anything I could explain to him, given it revolved around him a little. Those chocolate eyes bore into mine as he waited for me to say something. Ok, so it revolved around him a lot.

"It's nothing, really. I probably will."

"Well, if I can't help, I'm sure you'll find the answer somewhere."

I put the camera up to my face as I caught a pelican do a nosedive into the ocean.

"We can just look to 'N Sync to save the day."

I turned at his random statement. "What?"

"Little pale face boybands can come to your rescue. Help you find your way."

"The hell are you talking about?" But I laughed anyway.

"It would be a case of WWJTD..."

"Huh?"

"What would Justin Timberlake do?"

I scoffed. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No," he denied with a chuckle. "No, no, I'd be far too frightened to tease a senator."

"What? Wait," I said, my forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Did you just quote Star Wars?"

Paul's head shot back. He looked at me with shock, wonder, and amusement.

"What?" I demanded annoyed.

"Nothing, it's just..." He shook his head, still deep in bewilderment. "I didn't think you would recognize that quote. Now I don't know if I should be scared"-his eyes caught mine again- "or completely turned on."

I looked away, cleared my throat, and rolled my eyes dramatically, though my heart kicked into gear, and my stomach felt a flutter of new butterflies at his statement. "Whatever," I breathed, hoping it was convincing enough.

"You know we have a lot of similarities to them: Aniken and Padmé."

My eyes shot to him. "How?"

He cleared his throat with a sly grin. "Well, let's take for example your denial of what happens between us. Not to mention the fact that, well, she's a little bit older than him."

I wrestled with that thought uncomfortably. Again, he hit it right on the head.

"Friends," he continued. "Good friends. Who eventually fall for each other just like they did."

I felt the burn of a blush on my cheeks and decided to deflect his comment. "You're forgetting what happens."

His brows furrowed. "What you mean?"

"Aniken... He grows up to be Darth Vader."

"Ha ha ha." He nodded. "Touché, touché. But not before he gets the girl, marries her. And knocks her up... with twins."

"Let's not forget that he actually becomes instrumental to her death, and by the time of Luke and Leia's birth, surrenders to the dark side. Not to mention he does die at the end of episode six."

His palm went to his forehead. "D'oh! Double touché," he laughed. "You're too awesome."

I walked forward with him, shaking my head as I laughed along.

Another measure of peace, with a soundtrack of the rhythmic waves of the ocean crashing on the sand, punctuated by birds cries. The silence, surprisingly, not so awkward. There was a strange sense of welcoming comfort with him. Always.

"So... Jacob's home," he muttered, breaking the silence.

I nodded, a side of my mouth curling up in contentment. I wasn't surprised at his statement. The town was too small for its own good. My eyes followed my legs as I kicked some sand with my feet before I looked his way.

I stared at his profile as he looked ahead. Undeniably handsome, and once again, he appeared years beyond me. "That must be a relief."

I sighed. "It is."

He nodded, his eyes shooting at me. "I'm glad."

I felt his hand slide over mine, taking my fingers into his.

"Um, yeah," I breathed, pulling away and sticking to my resolve.

"Sorry," he said, his dark gaze searching my face. "Do you not like that?"

Unable to look him in the face, I shook my head, training my eyes to the ocean and stepping several paces before him.

"You didn't mind it the other day."

I paused to glare at him. "That was different, and you know it." I began to stalk away from him again.

"Sorry," he said, though something in his smirk told me that he wasn't. "But you really do look so... at peace." Hot on my heels one moment, he caught up with me with no effort, standing in my way.

I flinched at that note. "Do I?"

"Yes." His lips stretched into a large grin.

So cute.

So underage.

I shook myself out of it, turning towards the ocean and snapping a photo. "Things are going good, I guess."

I felt the tips of his fingers on my skin as he tried to take my hand. "Paul, really," I said, stepping away.

His large strides ate up the distance between us. "You can't just ignore this." His hand grabbed my arm and turned me in his direction.

An instant shiver washed through me as his palm hit my skin, but I was able to hide it. "Ignore what?" I demanded.

His hands made a gesture, his finger pointed and switched between both of our bodies. "This. You and me. We've got like... an amazing chemistry together. Don't get why you fight it."

I forced out a laugh, though it was more about an uncomfortable feeling that he was correct, rather than believing he was wrong. "That's preposterous."

"Big words, college graduate."

"Yes, _high school boy_."

"Is that it?" he asked, tilting his head from side to side as I tried to dodge his gaze. "My age?"

I shook my head and looked straight ahead, walking a little faster.

"It's my age, isn't it? Is that why you don't want to acknowledge what's going on here?" Again, the boy was able to keep my pace with no problems.

"I don't know, Paul," I grumbled, sarcasm pouring out of me. "Exactly what do you think is going on here?"

He stepped forward and in my way, his face inches from mine. It made me unable to walk away. I felt the heat of his skin without touching him and remembered the taste of his lips as my eyes flickered to his mouth for a moment.

"You like me." Even with an accusation, my heart melted. His voice was silk once again.

"What?" I exclaimed. Impossibly, I was able to will myself to step away in a scoff. "Can't you get a clue? How many times do I have to tell you this? I'm _not_interested."

"Well, why not?" he asked, his walk up on my heals. "I like _you_."

Butterflies fluttered endlessly in my stomach at his words, and I bit back a grin that threatened at my lips, willing my mouth into a frown. I was shaking my head. "You can't. I can't."

I began to walk faster, but he kept my pace with no issue, his large strides consuming the distance effortlessly. "Why are you denying it? I know you do."

Faster. I was walking even faster.

"I can sense that I make you nervous."

I stopped in my footing, looking up at him like he was an alien. "You can _sense_ that you make me nervous? What? Are you, like, a dog or something?"

He chuckled, an annoying sound. "One might actually argue that."

"Why am I not surprised?" I asked, stalking away from him and speeding my pace gain.

Damn his long legs, there he was walking in front of me now, backwards so he could look at me as he did. I tried to change directions, but he was on top of it, switching along with me. "Whenever I'm near you, you tremble, your palms get sweaty, and your heart begins to race. Or so it seems."

"Clearly you're delirious. Thinking you and I can ever be anything-"

"Because I'm younger than you?" he concluded.

"Thank you," I said, slicing the air with my hand toward him. "And there you have it."

"And that matters to you?"

"Ugh," I growled. "As a matter of fact, to answer your earlier question, _yes, _it_ is_your age. Because clearly they're not teaching you how to read clues in high school, so let me spell it out for you. Your age _does_ bother me. You're _young._ _Too _young. I'll be twenty-one in a matter of weeks, and you'll still be seventeen."

"I turn eighteen in March," he offered, as if it would help the situation.

"Not soon enough," I groaned.

"So if I turned eighteen sooner, that would make a difference?"

"Ugh!" I threw my arms up in the air in frustration, stopping to face him. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Girl, haven't you heard the late Aaliyah? Age ain't nothin' but a number."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please!" I stepped in his face, my teeth clenched together. "Read my lips. You're _illegal_, Paul. Too young. I could get arrested for being with you."

He returned my glare. "You'd only be arrested if you sexed me. We haven't had any sex. So, unless that's part of your agenda, we're just fine." His eyes burned again, becoming heavy lidded, and heat tumbled in waves in my direction from his body.

It made my heart pound violently within my chest, and I gulped audibly.

His gaze switched between my mouth and my eyes. "Though I don't think I'd argue if it was."

I stepped away and turned my head from his gaze, though my body heard what he was saying as I felt an involuntarily flood of warmth between my thighs.

He grabbed my wrist as I began to walk away, but I yanked it from him.

"Look, young man," I spoke with great authority as I stared elsewhere, stopping the stroll. "I'm done with college, and in two weeks, I can legally drink. You're not even old enough to get into a bar, so how do you suppose this would work?"

An irritating smirk cracked across his features as his nose flared ever so slightly. He said nothing else.

"What?" I asked, impatiently.

My tone seemed to bring him back into focus. "Eventually, I'll be old enough to do that. To walk into a bar. To drink. I don't even get carded as it is when I buy beer. But one day, I'll be old enough. And then you wouldn't have anything on me. There would be no issue. I look older than you as it is, without the technicality of my age, so if this is about worrying what others will think, people won't even guess the age difference... at least not that you're older."

I shrunk in my earlier stance, wrapping my arms around my chest and pulling my sweater closed. There was truth in what he said, but it would take a while to get there.

What the hell?

I shook my head. _Why was I even still considering such a thing?_

I turned my head, ready to shut him down, tell him that I wouldn't stand for any of this. That I'd move to Portland and live where it was easier. Away from this place. Away from the pain of losing my mom. Away from the temptation of being with someone underage. "You're too young to even understand."

"Pretty weak excuse, if you ask me." He spoke forcefully, all of the arrogance and hotheadedness of the Paul I remembered beginning to show in front of me again. "Weak. And shallow, too."

I glowered at him and stepped toward him in a challenging manner, meeting his eyes with anger. "Are you taunting me?"

His eyes grew heated with rage, as well, standing straight up with confidence. Or was it arrogance? "Just calling it like I see it, Ma'am," he growled through clenched teeth, sarcasm spewing as the word "ma'am" was uttered.

I stepped forward again, our faces mere inches apart. "Well, so am I," I snapped. "And you're too young." My jaw clamped down on my teeth. "Too. Young."

"Will you just stop and listen?" he asked, though the rise of his voice made it more of a demand.

I stared back at him.

His mouth opened and shut several times, his face completely frustrated. "You don't even know the half of everything."

"That's the thing, Paul. I don't think I should. I don't think this is right."

"Will you just stop with that shit, Rachel?" he said, his hands raising palm forward at me before he threw them to his side. "God, your reasoning is getting entirely too weak. And old, if you ask me. And I'm sick of it. It's not been two weeks, and I'm sick of pretending." His arms flew up again; he threw them around, adding to the passion of his speech that mentally brought me to my knees. "Don't you even want to know my reasoning? Don't you want to know why it's you? Why it's always been you? Why it'll always be?"

My insides began to melt. The prospect of such a thing was all I'd ever wanted, but everything I knew I shouldn't have with the person before me. "No, Paul, no-"

"Why?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Because it doesn't make sense."

"So?" he challenged me, stepping forward, his eyes looking down on mine. "Since when did this ever need to make any sense?"

I stepped back. "Paul, really."

"Come on! You're the reason for everything I do these days, Raych. I don't have any other reason to not be with you." He paused to evaluate my expression. "You are the reason for everything I am."

My resolve was shattering in front of me at his words. It was like my heart reeled and broke at the same time. My eyes turned away, unable to face the utter vulnerability in his expression. "Paul-"

"Let me finish," he insisted, his hand taking a firm grip on my wrist. Unable to look at his face, I followed the movement of his well-animated hands, the free one turning to a fist and punching lightly at his chest. "God, it hurts... to not be around you. To not see you." He let go of my wrist, that hand resting over his heart, the other a balled fist at his side. "If any of this is at all what you feel for me, too, just say so."

I permitted myself a glance at his sincere features before shutting my eyes.

"Please," he breathed, dropping his voice to a breath. "Stop me if any of this is what you feel for me."

"I'm really flattered. Really, I am."

"God damn it, Rachel. I wish you would quit lying to yourself!"

I pulled back, startled at his tone and alarmed at the rate at which his body began to quake.

He took several paces back, taking deep, calming breaths. There was an instinct for me to flee, a small part of me that told me that he was dangerous like this. But there was another instinct, one far greater than any I ever felt, to comfort him. It was the latter that kept me from running, though I stood silently before him, not offering the comfort I wanted to.

"Sorry," he choked out. "Look, I can't let myself lose my temper around you. If you could just... admit-"

"I'm sorry, Paul, but there's nothing to admit."

His crazed trembling, the one that kept me on edge, was gone by then. But it was replaced by another sort of shaking, one that seemed contagious.

I began to tremble, as well, but not in fear or in anger. It was far more instinctual and sensual in nature.

He stepped forward, a tiny distance from my face. Using his iron grip around my wrist, he pulled me closer.

Our noses were a mere two inches from each other, that scorching heat of his body radiating from him. My eyes squeezed shut in an effort to shield myself of such an intimate proximity.

"Rachel," he whispered.

"What?" I groaned, barely able to choke out the word.

"Tell me you don't want me. Look me in the eye, and tell me."

I swallowed before my answer left me in a breath, but my eyelids didn't lift. "I don't."

A sigh in frustration left him. "Open your eyes," he ordered quietly. "Look at me, and say it." I felt his hand come up, putting my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my face towards his. "And I'll believe you."

I tried to turn my head. Step away. But I couldn't release from his grip or his hold on my chin. Then again, there was the irrational part of me that didn't care to fight it either.

"Rachel, look at me, and tell me. And I'll believe you. I'll even leave you alone," he promised, though his voice cracked towards the end of his promise.

His breath was warm and fresh as it washed over me, weakening me to the marrow in my bones. My eyes opened slowly, meeting the molten chocolate pools of his, their depth unmatched by anything I'd ever known. "I don't..." but my voice faded, unable to keep with any train of thought. "I d-don't-" What was it? What was I supposed to tell him again?

His face inched forward, his lips brushing gently against mine, soft, warm, tempting.

So tempting.

My heart was beating so loud and so fast that I couldn't concentrate on anything else but his lips. So, I let them press against my mouth. I let them move gently against my own, and before I knew it, mine were responding, moving with his.

My head battled the throbbing ache in my chest. My mind was yelling how angry I was... but my heart.

His mouth opened, his tongue brushing teasingly against my lips. Since the last night at the beach with him, our first kiss haunted me, leading to my failing resolve against this very action. And then his lips forced my mouth open.

Oh, God, my heart.

He moaned, and his hand gripped on my head stronger, pulling me close to him, his tongue thrusting past my lips and assaulting my mouth.

And just like that, I lost my head all over again.

His hands encased my face as his mouth moved with confidence and urgency. I held up on my end with no issue, my own confidence and urgency matching his.

It wasn't long before I realized that I was pressing myself against him. That my hands had found their way up his arms, following the wide and curved lines of his shoulders, up his neck, to the back of his head, pulling him closer to me.

It was this detail that brought the rational side of me to her senses, letting go from him and breaking free from him.

Both out of breath and grasping for air, he caught his balance quickly from falling forward at my abrupt release from him.

"I can't do this," I choked out. "We can't do this."

His hands grabbed my arms and pulled me to him. "Rachel, come on."

I avoided his eyes, trying to break free from his hold. "We shouldn't even be friends. It's too confusing."

"Confusing for you?" he asked, hope in the lilt of his tone.

"No, for you," I argued. "Both-" I stuttered. "I don't. It's just too confusing! We just can't. It's leading us down a path I can't allow-"

But suddenly his mouth found mine again, moving so fast that I was caught off guard. But there was no contest. My weakness for him overrode all rational thought.

My hands found their own mind, searching and learning the muscles on his arms, his back, his shoulders. My body was flush against his, pressing my breasts against his chest as much as physics would allow, feeling the great power behind him.

There was a lethal power in how he held me, enticing a moan from my lips, muffled against his eager mouth. He pressed into me, and I suddenly felt something stiff and thick against my stomach, in his jeans, punching through like it wanted out. Like it wanted to be let free.

I shivered against him as I realized what that was.

A massive erection.

By then, it wasn't only my heart that was singing. Like an automatic reaction to him, I was turned on, a surge of warmth hitting between my thighs almost instantaneously.

His hands fell from my face, following my shoulders, shaping my figure with his palms, stopping at my hips where they grabbed hold of my thighs from behind. Before I knew what happened, my legs were around his hips, hooked at the ankles at the small of his back, my arms hooked around his neck. One arm of his was wrapped around my torso, the other hand on my ass.

Without our lips leaving each other, his body still encased by my limbs, I felt a shift in his weight as he got on his knees, and then another when he sat me on his thighs, the sand closer to us. Our tongues wrestled as his chest leaned forward, laying me gently against the sand. Remarkably, he slipped the camera's strap off of me and laid it neatly beside us as his lips still moved. I would be impressed if I wasn't so occupied with the kiss. The heat. The new hunger that began as a spark within me and grew into a large flame. The need to feel more of him against me.

Both of us so occupied that when a ring tone went off the first time, we barely noticed.

Or at least I didn't. His weight was so enticing against my body, my legs still wrapped around his thick waist. His lips left my mouth, trailing down my chin, my neck. My eyes rolled to the back of my head in response, my fingers curling into his hair. Panting, I was unable to find my voice-the one that should be telling him to stop. The one that should be resisting.

He pulled the sweater off one of my arms, revealing more of my collarbone, which his lips and tongue slid against.

I flinched in reaction to a light dusting of his fingers as they grazed my breast over my tank top, my nipples tightening automatically.

His hips surged forward, pressing his denim-covered pelvis against my own, and my center flooded again.

And that was when my voice was found again. A moan left my mouth, and when he pulled back and forward again, it brought back another moan.

The sharp trill of a cell phone interrupted us.

He reached into his pocket and looked at his caller ID. "Damn it," Paul groaned, lifting the phone to his ear. "Second time it went off. Have to take this. Excuse me, please." He took a couple steps away, toward the water. "Sam, what's up?"

And with the tone of his voice so reluctant to take the call, sense came to me at that instant. Sitting up and turning away, I wiped my mouth.

What the hell was I doing?

I guess I must've run for my car, but I didn't remember. I was behind the wheel before I could make sense of everything. I could see Paul running towards the car as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

I got home to check the mail, but nothing was there.

I ended up giving the recruiter from Bloom Rogers a call, giving my verbal acceptance of the job. There was no way I was staying here now.

I ended up watching TV on the couch for a few hours before I feel into a nap. I didn't remember much about it, but I had a dream as I slept. All I did remember was Paul and a lot of skin. I woke up to the sound of a truck parking in front of my house, pining for him.

I spotted the FedEx truck before the doorbell rang. I thanked him as he had me sign something and handed me the envelope. There it was: the offer letter from Bloom Rogers on fresh letterhead. The paper was crisp with the company's logo and address engraved at the top.

I pressed my pen to the signature line, watching my hand autograph my name in blue ink. Promising myself that tomorrow I'd begin to search hard core for a new apartment, I knew what I had to do.

It was the right thing to do, or at least that was what I was trying to tell myself.

Paul was too young, and I couldn't even think about him. Not that I did.

Or at least, I wished I didn't.

I cursed as I realized I couldn't stop myself from doing so.

It was just that when I closed my eyes now, all I saw was_ him_. His deep set, chocolate brown eyes. His warm smile on that chiseled, rugged, handsome face. I felt the heat from his body when he wrapped his thick, beefy arms around me-the warmth that flowed into me when his large, rough hands slipped from my back up my neck to my cheek, cradling my face gently. I could taste his lips when he brought my face forward to him.

Even down to my dreams, he was inescapable.

Later that evening, I found myself happily fixing dinner for my brother and me, since my dad phoned earlier that he was spending time with Charlie at the Clearwater house. Jacob and I sat together in front of the TV, watching the Food Network with steaks and baked potatoes.

"This is the only time I can watch this channel," Jacob admitted, settling down next to me on the couch with a plate of two steaks and two of the larger potatoes.

"Night time?"

"No, meal time," he laughed, before shoving a mouthful of rare beef past his lips.

I shook my head and chuckled with him, but it was true. I couldn't watch anything on this channel without getting hungry. It was good to be chilling with my brother. I felt relaxed. He refused to talk about Bella, and I didn't want to push him, so we talked casually about everything but the wedding.

Half way through Iron Chef, the phone rang.

"I'll get it," I said, heading for the kitchen.

Jacob just nodded, sour cream on the left side of his lip, his mouth full of baked potato.

Motioning with my finger for him to wipe his cheek, I was still laughing at him as I picked up the phone. "The Black residence," I answered.

"Hey." The voice was now clearly familiar, doing all sorts of things to my body at the sound of it.

I froze instantly. "Paul," I whispered, into the phone. "Please tell me you're calling to talk to my dad or Jake."

"You know better than that," he said. "I'd call your cell, but I don't have that number."

"And you never will," I answered.

"That's not the impression I got early this morning." His tone grated my nerves. So cocky. Annoying.

I felt my brother watching me from the living room, so I turned my back on him and dropped my voice. "You've got to stop calling."

"This is the first I've called in a week, Rachel."

"Still," I insisted. "You've got to stop. You've got to stay away."

"Why? Tell me, Rachel? Why should I stop? Why do you want me to stay away?"

"Because I'm moving. I've accepted a job in Portland, and I'm moving."

Silence on the other line. For quite a long time. I was about to say something, anything-because somehow my heart couldn't handle the thought of hurting him-when he spoke again. "When?" he finally choked out.

"Next Monday."

"Don't go," he said.

I felt something rip apart in my chest. "You can't ask me that."

"But I can. And I will. And I am. Please," he begged. "Don't go."

"I signed the offer letter. It's in the mail. I gave them my verbal confirmation on the phone hours ago."

"Take it back," he pleaded.

"You're the one who told me yourself. I should just go for it. Remember?"

He was quiet again.

"We can't keep doing this. We just can't. There's no future in it."

"Rachel-"

"So, I think it's best that we end this now, before someone gets hurt."

I heard him clear his voice. "It's a little too late for that." His voice was a whisper, yet it still broke at the end of his statement.

I felt my eyes straining, warm stinging coming from the sides as I fought the threatening tears. Why the tears, I was not sure. Because this shouldn't hurt me.

"Paul, I'm sorry."

"Rachel, please."

"I can't," I breathed. "You're... great. And I thank you for everything, but this is wrong. Please, just stop calling. We can't see each other anymore."

"Raych," he breathed.

"Goodbye, Paul." I was trying to sound firm, but I wasn't able to say it without my voice catching at the end. And I hung the phone on the receiver.

I took a moment to collect myself, with the taste of warm, salty liquid on my lips. Tears that I didn't realize had formed had fallen and trailed down my cheek to my mouth. I wiped them away quickly, took several deep breaths, and checked my reflection in the window before joining my brother in the living room.

He was still chomping away at his dinner when I sat down. "You okay over there?" he asked as I walked over.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, clearing my throat as I sat my ass on the couch, keeping most of my face from his view.

"You sure about that, Rachel?" His eyes were on me now, full of concern.

I smiled at him as best as I could. But in the same way that he couldn't talk about his Bella, I couldn't talk about his friend. "I'm sure," I nodded. "Now, who looks like they're winning?" I asked, bringing my attention back to the screen. "I think that Mario Batali always has a winning chance against the competitor."

"Iron Chefs always win," Jacob agreed, but I could feel him peering at me through the corner of his eye. He didn't believe I was okay.

I wasn't sure I believed it either.

It was the next morning when a soft knock sounded at the door, waking me up first since the living room was now my bedroom.

Opened the door to Fork's own Chief of Police. I smiled as I rubbed my eyes. "Charlie," I said.

He stood in his flannel and jeans with a fishing vest, complete with a pole and his tackle box. "Hey there, Rachel. So sorry," he offered. "Did I wake yah?"

"I was just about to get up," I said. I gestured for him to come in, but he only stepped into the foyer so I could shut the door behind him "How's it going?" I was just about to ask about how he was fairing without Bella, but I bit my tongue.

"I'm doing well," he answered, though something in his tone sounded lonely. "And yourself?"

"I'm doing good."

"That's good. Your dad home?"

"Yeah, he should be just about ready."

"Great."

My dad wheeled himself out in just at that moment. I tried to offer them both breakfast, but they refused. I kissed my father goodbye and waved at Charlie before they walked out.

I checked Jake's bedroom, but it looked he left earlier that morning, or was it that he went out late last night and never came back? I wasn't sure, but I was beginning to notice he had a strange sleeping pattern. No big deal.

Grabbing some clothes, I hopped into the shower, lathering my hair, rinsing it out. As I went to put conditioner in, it was strange that bits and pieces of my dream from my nap the previous day came back to me. Paul and me, against a wall, in a place I'd never been, hot and heavy.

I remembered the events yesterday morning as I soaped my body. The taste of his lips, the heat of his skin, the warm musky air of his breath. I imagined what it would be like to feel his naked skin against mine. My hand travelled down my body with its own mind—the same mind that learned the muscles on his enormous back, heavy his shoulders, sturdy arms.

I could still remember the feel of his mouth as it trailed down my chin, my neck, licking across my collar bone. I imagined that same mouth all over me. His body all over mine. Begging him not to stop but to keep going. To never end.

I came undone, uttering Paul's name not just once, but several times. My hand planted against the shower wall to catch balance as the thunderous roar of my release surged through me. My forehead pressed against the cold tiles by my hand as I fought to catch my breath.

I was barely recovered from my orgasm when I rinsed off. Just as my foot hit the bathroom rug from out of the shower, I heard a loud knock at the front door. I figured it was my brother or my dad, probably forgetting the house key.

I wrapped myself in a towel hastily, my hair dripping, streams of water racing down my shoulders and my back, as the banging on my door persisted.

I could see out the window, the figure of my brother in just his shorts. It seemed everyone's uniform these days out here. Damn Jacob for forgetting his keys.

"God, Jacob. Chill out, will you? I'm getting you the keys right now."

I grabbed a set of keys hanging on the wall, ready to hand it to my brother. I grabbed the knob with the other hand, twisting it quickly. Just as I swung the door open, my hold on the keys fell slack at the sight of the man before me-who wasn't my brother at all-and the keys went colliding to the floor.

My hand automatically came up to my towel, clutching it shut and securing it above my bosom.

Eyes toffee and chocolate. Chiseled face smoldering as those very eyes bored into mine. "Hey," he greeted me, the voice silky as always.

"Paul," I gasped under my breath.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

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Thanks for reading!

Be sure to follow me on twitter achelle131 for updates, or find me in the twilighted forum under "achelledenalicullen."

For teasers and discussion on this story, please visit the Hungry Like the Wolf (HLW) thread on the forums under FanfictionBreaking Dawn. You will find the link to the thread on my profile.


	7. Chapter 7: Surrender

Playlist:

Ginuwine – In Those Jeans

James Carrington – Ache

Faith Evans – Kissing You

Miguel – Sure Thing

**Author's Note:**

Wow. Thanks guys! I LOVED the overwhelming response to the last chapter! You don't know how I appreciate the enthusiasm for my story. Reviews are like Christmas presents for me. They encourage me to continue writing and I thank you all.

Anyway, I'd like to address one small thing. I know a quick update is always desired. I'm averaging about one chapter per month, which is slower than most would like. However, please know that I work hard to make it a worthwhile, quality chapter, and I take my time to write it out, print it, re-edit, send it to my beta, and edit again. Also, this is more of a means to escape from real life more than anything. I work a full time 9-5 job, commute 1 hour back and forth, have a husband and a house to look after, and a social life outside of the fandom. These factors contribute to my writing time. I hope that all of you understand, and are respectful of that.

Again thanks for the wonderful response to HLW. I hope the rest of the story holds your interest!

Special thanks to LauraWesley, my awesome beta!

_**To adhere better to the Terms of Service at FanFiction(dot)net, I am doing a revisions on my chapters here, and keeping them less explicit. They will be rightfully fitting into the M-rated (R-rated) category (rather than MA or NC-17). Please go to my profile and read my story on Twilighted for the full explicit version.**_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Surrender**

* * *

My heartbeat was a thunderous roar behind my ears. My eyes indulged in the sight before them. Shirtless, smooth, bronze flesh.

But my mind was working. Resisting.

I hated the way his eyes traveled my body from head to toe. But on an even deeper level, I hated that his once-over pleased me. Never the less my left hand stayed put at the top of my towel, securing it around my body.

"Jacob's not here," I finally said, dismissively. My hand had never left the doorknob, and I braced to shut it as I continued with, "I'll let him know you came by."

"I'm not here for Jake," he said, his large hand halting the door with strength I didn't expect. Or maybe I should have, given his brawn.

I couldn't help but glance at his hand follow the line from there to his shoulder. His arms were tight and thick with muscle, the rivulets of his veins ribbing their smooth, copper colored surface; a surface of seemingly soft skin.

_Stop it._

I forced my eyes to switch back to his face, before I got carried away. I wasn't trying to return his once-over with my own. _For Christ's sake, he's just a kid_, I told myself. _A high school kid._

Paul's features, however, were still a sinful treat to my eyes, and as always unfathomably aged beyond his youth. His stare beneath the strong line of brow bone of his was captivating. His mouth had turned up in a small, irritatingly cocky grin. He'd obviously caught that I'd checked out his arm. My heart began to race as his chocolate eyes laid fixed on mine.

My eyes narrowed at him. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" It had to be 8:00 AM. He seemed like a late riser.

He shrugged lightly. "Something… woke me up."

"Oh." For some reason, I blushed. As if he could possibly know what I was just doing in the shower…

His gaze was just so powerful, an endless sea of molten bronze depth, and they hadn't left my face once. He didn't respond. He just stood there, breathing. Staring.

A small part of me should think that this was weird, but I could feel my body responding longingly for him. I suddenly couldn't tell if the streams of moisture running down my back were sweat or the water from my drenched tendrils.

I cleared my throat, though the anxious lump that had risen there didn't budge. I figured I'd break the silence. "Well, my dad's not here. He's at the lake with Charlie."

"Not here for Billy, either," he said, stepping forward, and into my personal space.

My other hand instinctively clutched at my towel like a vise. I recoiled from his advance, suddenly very aware of how naked I was underneath the terrycloth.

He moved in further, his face now inches from mine, the strength of his push on the door no match for my effort to shut it on him. He had one foot in the house; my right foot behind me, mirroring his and keeping my balance as I'd leaned back.

He smelled like a musky, woodsy cologne, with a hint of dark spice. I wanted to bury my face in his neck to get a better whiff, but I was much smarter than that. And suddenly, just like when I'd laid eyes on him my first day back at First Beach, all I could hear was his breathing, an inhale and exhale in time with the rise and fall of his shoulders.

I felt nothing—not the A/C going on in the house, or the drops of water from my wet hair racing down my back—nothing but him. His breath was warm, the heat from his body radiating from him as it had yesterday when we kissed.

That same ember ignited within me, the same tiny flame of need that had made itself a home inside of me since that night weeks ago on the beach. The first night I'd seen him since his adolescence. It was, as always, distinct and solid—feral. It glowed—powerful, overwhelming.

Desperately trying to find reality, I shook myself out of the bizarre trance, my back arching away from him, though not all of me cared to fight his proximity. "Wh-what are you h-here for then?"

His face inched forward; close enough to kiss me again. My eyes flickered to the warm flush of his lips at the memory of that soft, searing kiss on First Beach and back to his coffee irises. I could feel myself trembling, my wet tresses shaking in the periphery of my vision.

"_You_," he answered in a breath.

My heart was beating violently within my ribs. So much so that I couldn't find an appropriate response. I'd just gotten off to the thought of him mere moments ago. To my horror, I realized I was in no position to turn this offer down. Did he know that? Did he have some sort of intuition for what I needed at any given moment?

There was no more time to think. He inched forward, closing the distance of our lips, pressing that flushed, soft mouth against mine. I felt his hand guiding me towards the kitchen, though my eyes were still closed mid-kiss. My back hit a barrier, effectively stopping our retreat. Pulling away to smile at me, his hands went to my hips and lifted me onto the counter with ease. And then his mouth was on me again. Hungry. Ravenous.

I had no issue with this, because I felt the same. The ember had grown into a full-on, blazing flame—one that could only be put out by the man before me.

I felt his hand at my towel, and with one swift pull, it fell from around my chest, pooling at my seat and around my hips.

His hands aggressively searched my body as our tongues wrestled each other, starting with my arms, up to trace my shoulders, following the indentation of my cleavage. "God damn, you're so hot," he muttered, his palms grazing down my torso to my navel.

I moaned in response, relishing the feel of his body against me. His hands worshiping my body. His mouth moving fiercely against my own.

His palms were like fire against my skin, his fingers grasping my calves, digging into my thigh muscles. Goosebumps grew all over my body. I knew where I wanted him to touch me most. I was too weak to stop him.

I'd never wanted a man so much in my life. But wanting him seemed as natural to me as breathing, as if he existed to tempt me, to be the one relief to my body's desires. I craved the crazy, delicious heat that his body emitted. I wanted it to be the source of my sweat; the reason for my fluster.

His lips left mine, trailing past my chin and to my neck. His hands were a greedy pair of explorers, tracing the curves of my body like they only had two minutes to do it. They slid around my back, my sides, my legs. His mouth followed, eagerly licking up the running water that fell from my wet hair.

"Yes," I breathed without another thought, in a crazed, wanton lust.

His mouth covered mine again with enthusiasm, a response to my vocal encouragement. His hands were gluttonous. They formed around my breasts, kneading them with his palms as he took my lower lip between his teeth. They caused another surge of moisture between my thighs.

My hands found their way up to his head, running my fingers through his dark hair.

His mouth left mine, and I watched eagerly for his next move. He pulled one breast up to his face, his chocolate eyes boring into mine tauntingly. His mouth enveloped my nipple, his other hand gliding downward on my abdomen, finding the hot place between my thighs. He rubbed his fingers rapidly against my moist, needy flesh.

"Oh, God," I groaned. My fingers closed on his locks with an iron grip. I groaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. The need within me was growing, that longing for a release.

He knelt down before me, spreading my legs, exposed before him. He pressed soft kisses over my hips, and across the top of my thighs. I began to shake, both in response to my need, and in nervous anticipation of what waited for me in the next moment. The urgency of his earlier movements didn't match the tenderness he now bestowed upon me.

The feel of his mouth on my flesh was all the more vivid because he barely touched me, teasing me with his warm breath, his moist lips, his soft, wet tongue. Soft strokes hovered over that vulnerable, scorching spot, making me strain to feel him. It turned each pass of his mouth into a source of both pleasure and frustration.

I pushed my hips up toward him in a silent demand, my body leaning on my elbows and lower back.

His chocolate eyes lifted to mine, seeming to search for something in a short instance.

My answering expression was pleading, with heavy lids, my lips ajar. My chest was heaving, my breath a pant. The small moment seemed to last forever in my impatience, and I jerked my hips back up into his face again. "Please," I begged in a ragged breath.

I saw that he found what he was looking for, the side of his lips curling up in a crooked smile of satisfaction. With a growl that sounded both terrifyingly animalistic and erotic, he dove down and sealed his mouth onto me—pulling me to him. "You taste so good," he growled against me.

A surge of warmth flooded through me and between my legs, and suddenly the fierce roll of my pending release came rushing through my body, feeling the tremors through my limbs. "Oh, God. _Paul!"_

It left me where he began, his mouth moving feverishly against me. And even when I begged him to stop because I'd become too sensitive, he kept going, working me over and over. I came again and even harder—something that had never happened to me before.

He kept going, riding out my jerks and arches.

I'd never been able to orgasm before, at least not something that wasn't self-induced. No male had ever given me that sort of satisfaction. But this man had made me climax over and over again with ease, stunning me and leaving me strapped on the kitchen counter.

There was nothing else I could do but take it, so I rode what seemed like endless waves of pleasure until my body stilled. At that point, I wasn't sure I could see straight, what with all the stars in my eyes from all the times I came. I couldn't move. I sat a quivering mass, but aside from that, perfectly still.

But for Paul, stilled he was not. He stood up swiftly, fumbling quickly with the fly of his cargo shorts, and then I heard them fall.

My eyes widened at the sight of his length—it's size directly proportional to his large, massive body. My heartbeat doubled in speed and volume as I visually measured his thick girth and impressive length.

But there wasn't too much time to size him up. One of his hands was on the back of my thigh, right behind my knee, lifting my leg up, while his other hand guided himself where we wanted him to go.

Once in position, his eyes captured my own. He slowly pushed forward, my eyes widening as I felt all of his girth inside of me.. We both groaned in unison before his mouth pressed against mine again.

He took it treacherously slow, watching me carefully. "Are you okay?"

I wasn't sure what my face said, but I knew what my answer would be. "Y-yes," I gasped, though I did feel some pain interlaced with pleasure because of his size. But he had to keep going. With every push, my body stretched to accommodate him.

"Rachel," he breathed with the utmost reverence and gentleness. His eyes were hooded, clearly enjoying the sensation, but his focus was on my wellbeing. "You sure?" he asked, slowing down.

"Yes," I assured him, straightening my face. "Please." I moved my pelvis forward to encourage him.

His breath changed and he flinched in reaction to my motion. He began a rhythm that made my eyes roll to the back of my head on instinct.

"Oh, my _God_," he growled into my mouth. "You feel so damn _good."_

Slowly, he moved. Every pass caused me to yelp, helpless against the immense pleasure of him. My toes curled at every sensation, feeling myself on the verge of exploding yet again. I'd never known an orgasm through penetration, but I felt the rolling pressure gather from my limbs to my gut, travelling down to my center. Yes, I was going to definitely explode.

And when I did, his name fell from my lips, along with many unintelligible words and expressions.

He breathed heavily through his mouth, a slight grin to the way it was open. He locked eyes with me, seeming to enjoy my pleasure. "Aw, yeah," he panted "Come for me, baby."

The last cry of my release left me in a whimper. My nails bit into his back reactively, the action only seeming to encourage him more. He pushed and pulled further. The rhythm grew faster and faster, more and more urgent with every moment that passed.

My breath was tearing in and out of my throat. Before I knew it, I was pulling my hips up and back in time with his rapidly increasing thrusts. My body followed his, feeling every inch of him inside of me, absorbing every lick of movement the head of his shaft made against the most sensitive spot inside of me. The sensations gathered, and I was sure what was approaching. I was going to come. Again.

"Oh, my God. Paul!" I screamed. But this time, as I convulsed around him, I felt him still and jerk erratically, his cries become as loud as my own, if not louder.

"Oh, shit," he snarled through his teeth. His hand grabbed at the top of my shoulder, holding me close to him.

"You, too?" I was able quickly in all my whimpering, my voice breaking.

He nodded vigorously, his face scrunched, his mouth ajar and panting profusely. "Rachel, baby… Holy. _Shit."_

His body finally stilled, but his arms were around me. He pressed his lips to mine, still breathing heavily through his nose, sealing our action. Sealing our fates together.

I felt warm liquid trickle down the inside of my thigh as he finally pulled out.

Like a gentleman, he wrapped the towel around me and lifted me off the counter, carrying me to the living room and laying me onto the air mattress. Setting the towel aside, he stretched out beside me, though I knew with his large frame, we wouldn't be able to fit on the mattress. He was able to make room anyway, laying me on my side, my body on top of his. He reached his long arm over to the couch to grab one of the covers I had folded neatly and laid on its seat earlier. He spread it out over us.

I nuzzled my head in between the nook created by his head and his neck. His arms wrapped snuggly around me. I felt his lips press to my forehead, and I took a long breath of relief.

As corny as it may sound, we were in total post-coital bliss. Both of us filled with elation—so sated in one another—just laid there in silence. In peace. It had been so long since I'd felt such peace in my life. It was a moment that I never wanted to end.

It was also a long moment before either one of us spoke. Surprisingly, Paul was the one to break that silence.

"I knew it," he sighed.

I lifted my head to look down at him. "Knew what?"

That same cocky grin that grated my nerves all this time, but now seemed considerably sexy, stretched across his face. "You like me."

"You're so full of it." I smacked his arm as he wiggled his eyebrows at me, but he wrestled my own arms, swatting my hand away.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, as he locked my arms behind my back, flipping us over so that he was on top. His hold was strong. Too strong for me to fight.

His dark eyes stared down at me, hooded, sheltered by the long, feather duster lashes.

"Let me go," I demanded, playfully.

"No," he countered, his grin sheepish.

"Now," I growled, trying to keep a straight face.

His lovely eyes narrowed. "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do."

"But you don't. And I'm not letting you go." He leaned in to give me a gentle kiss. "Ever." His voice was a whisper against my mouth, and then he closed it over mine again.

His kisses always had the same effect on me… earth shattering, mind-blowing, will weakening. It made you forget your name. I so easily lost myself in the motion, the taste.

It took a long moment of tongue wrestling before my thoughts trickled back into my brain. "What are we doing?" I mumbled against his lips. I know I was putting a damper on the moment, that I could ruin all of this hot sex with the wrong question. But was the type that needed to know. I could never engage in casual sex, so it was just easier to lay it out in front of us before we went any further.

"Kissing," he responded with a small chuckle, his tone implying the "duh." He didn't see where I was going with this, too preoccupied in making out. I wanted to be preoccupied with his lips, too, but something was more pressing.

I felt, as the older of us two, that I had to lead in that arena, the straightforward, set-the-ground-rules thing. At least, that's what I wanted to think. I wanted to be the strong adult, but was I really? My heart was pounding a mile a minute, like a cowardice child. His lips moved against mine tenderly, yet my mind raced with these thoughts, and my heart with these concerns. Fear was beginning to seep into my chest. Fear of losing him. But I knew I had to ask. My nerves were getting to me quickly as my mind formulated the question and traveled through my nerves and to my lips. "I mean… what is this?"

He pulled away to look at me, sense seeming to come to him for the first time. "What? You mean this," – his hand motioned between us—,"You and me?"

"Yeah." I realized with a sickening sensation in my stomach that this could all be wrong. I knew that getting it out of my system with just sex wouldn't be the answer, no matter how tempting the idea was that Dana gave me. I would need to be with him, because the thought of not having another day with him was like an ache in my heart. And the thought that he may consider this a fling… well, it would be gut wrenching.

"Well," he breathed, "what do you want it to be?" His voice was like sex on satin.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My eyes flitted from his in embarrassment.

"What?" he asked with a surprised chuckle. "You think I'm just tryin' to hit it and quit it?" His eyes searched my face. "Have you not been listening to me all this time?"

His fingertips dusted my shoulder before making a trip down my side, tracing my figure. The action elicited a shiver from me.

I'd always been self-conscious about my body. I didn't think I was particularly fat, per se. I'd always had unbelievable metabolism, lean with muscle; it seemed to run in the family. However, my body was far from perfect. I'd always felt I had a boyish figure, I thought—flat-chested and no shape. Athletic, maybe, but softness didn't come 'til college, when my hips ballooned to almost a size-six on my size-two frame, and my boobs grew only to not quite a B-cup, and never a coveted C.

Yet this action-his hand drawing an imaginary line down my side, my otherwise imperfect figure-made me feel beautiful. _He_ made me feel beautiful. Oh, God, how this would hurt if he didn't want more with me.

"I know what I want," he mumbled. "I mean… You know what I want. At least, you should. I told you just yesterday. I'm in this… completely." I felt his eyes on me as they searched face. "But I'll leave this up to you. My will is… well, yours."

I met his searching eyes with my own. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want more with you," I admitted quietly.

His fingers traced light circles on my hip. "Well, that settles it then." He leaned in for a kiss.

"How's this going to work?" I asked, suddenly, pulling away.

He shrugged. "I don't know. But I'll do my best to make it work." His voice carried a confidence that I couldn't argue with.

Insecurity and vulnerability surfaced from someplace inside of me, and I was powerless to stop myself from saying the next thing that fell out of my mouth. "I'm scared of getting hurt again." Because I was. I'd been cheated on in my one and only experience with love. To give my heart away so carelessly was not an option.

His hand raised to my head, his fingers in my hair, stroking and combing my tresses in an effort to comfort me. My eyes shut at the feeling. It was working. I could feel him begin to speak, so I opened my eyes again.

"I would never hurt you, Rachel Black. I couldn't." His eyes were intense. Honest. Sincere. Another thing that couldn't be argued with. Couldn't be challenged. He smiled a tiny smile. "Besides, you're the one with the power to crush me in half. I'd just merely live for you."

Coming from anyone else, it would be a corny line from a cheesy chick flick. From Paul, it was doctrine, his own vulnerable honesty that I couldn't question. I didn't bother.

I was the one who leaned in this time to kiss him. He accepted with enthusiasm, letting me take the reins for once. He seemed to relish it, practically purring when my mouth left his to trace the curve of his square jaw, follow the slope of his neck to his collarbone. My fingers grazed his well-defined chest, his washboard stomach. So smooth. So amazing.

Total and utter perfection.

I let my hands travel down his abdominal muscles, tracing the "v" shaped indentation where his pelvis began, dusting my palm and fingers down to his stiff, throbbing erection. He shivered visibly in reaction to my touch, an encouraging factor to my motivation.

I positioned myself to his right, stroking his shaft with both hands as he kissed me passionately, delving his tongue into my mouth. He nipped and sucked on my bottom lip. His actions told me that he was hungry; seeming to want to be pleased, and worshipped with my hands.

I had the selfless desire, instinctual and undeniable, to take care of him for as long as he'd let me, and in turn I wanted to do more for him. Right at this moment.

I was apprehensive as I lay down on my stomach by his side, shakily positioning my face near his groin.

He watched me eagerly, but said nothing. The way his lip trembled told me he needed to feel my mouth on him.

I brought him to my mouth slowly.

It was a few long moments later, after I'd made him curse and moan my name, that he was totally spent. He fell on his back onto the air mattress, winded and trying to calm down from his climax, and I was the one sitting up this time against the sofa.

When his breath caught up with him, he sat up and laid me down like a gentleman, giving me the cushion. He laid on his side to my right, his head propped up on his elbow as he studied me.

"What?" I asked.

The side of his lip curled up. "Nothing. Just enjoying the view." A pronounced growl sounded from his stomach.

"You're hungry."

"I'm cool," he denied, but his stomach begged to differ, growling even louder in response. His hand formed around my arm. His cheeks became a warm color. It looked nice on him.

"No," I chuckled. "That's definitely an empty stomach talking."

I felt his grip on my arm tighten. "Don't go."

"Really, Paul. Let me fix you breakfast. Did you eat anything at all this morning?"

He seemed to think for a moment, as if he didn't want to tell me something. "Nah. Didn't get a chance to. I was… in a rush."

I leaned in to give him a light peck on his lips. "Let me make you something." I placed a finger on his lips to hush him as he began to protest. "Please. I want to."

His grip didn't budge. "Did you eat yet?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because if you have, I can just go into town to a diner, like In Place or something. But if you haven't…"

I began to shake my head before he finished. "I haven't," I confirmed.

His grip loosened, and I smiled. He shut his eyes when I went to give a peck his forehead. I stood up and went to grab a pair of underwear and a tank top and slid them on before returning to the kitchen.

I pulled out a carton of eggs, a box of Eggo blueberry waffles, and a steak from last night. "You like blueberry?"

"Yeah."

"Steak and eggs?"

"Yup." He was sliding on his boxers before walking over. "I like pretty much everything, so don't worry."

I giggled, not surprised. "Good."

"Need help?" he offered, as he padded over to the kitchen.

"Sure," I said. I placed the two leftover steaks on the cutting board, handing it to him with a knife. "Slice this up. My dad didn't eat here last night. He was at Sue's with Charlie. Jake had eaten three."

Placing a pan with oil on the hot stove to heat up, I cracked four eggs into a bowl and started to beat it. "Is this enough?" I asked him. "I know you eat a lot."

He blushed this time. "Uh, that's… cool."

"Uh huh," I responded, unconvinced. I cracked two more eggs into the bowl.

"That's more like it," he smiled.

After adding salt and pepper to the scrambled eggs, I threw some crushed garlic in the pan and watched it sizzle in the oil.

"Garlic in the eggs?" Paul asked in an excited tone.

"It's for the steak," I explained as I smiled and stirred it around, reaching for the cutting board with the chopped sirloin, but he passed it to me.

"It flavors the pan," I answered as I felt his curious eyes on me. "The eggs will soak it right up. Beef and garlic. " His eyes lit up. "Is that okay?"

"Only the most awesome idea ever." He hovered as I slid the sautéed steak strips and garlic to a dish. "Where'd you learn to do all this?"

"Live away from home long enough, and Ramen noodles just don't cut it anymore. I had to be creative."

He smiled in response.

I had a sudden flash of my mom banging around in the kitchen with an amazing stew on the stove, and a casserole in the oven. "Mom was a great cook, too." The grief was palpable in my voice as I grabbed the bowl of eggs. Emptiness lay heavy in my chest.

"I'm sure," he agreed in a soft tone. I felt his arms snake around from behind me. Leaned in to kiss me on my cheek while I poured the eggs into the pan.

I giggled, literally swooning. The emptiness inside me was replaced by a flutter of butterflies.

As the eggs cooked, I shoved some waffles into the toaster. I frowned when I opened the cupboard that we used as a makeshift pantry. "Damn," I groaned, lifting a bottle of an empty Mrs. Butterworth's. "That kid, I tell you."

He chuckled. "What'd Jake do?"

I lifted the container to the sunlight. "Leave two drops in the bottle. We have no syrup."

"Oh."

Tossing it in the trash, I opened the fridge. Nothing. Not even maple syrup or honey. But then I found Raspberry jam and the butter. "I know what to do."

"What's that?"

I scooped out a few spoonfuls of the jam and placed it in a bowl with as few pads of butter and nuked it in the microwave.

He watched in awe as I poured my makeshift syrup onto the waffles. "Okay. You're officially amazing."

"Hush," I said, turning to get some plates, forks, and knives. I flipped the eggs into a bowl and laid it on our small dining table. I set the table and motioned for him to take a seat. "Eat."

He sat down eagerly, but refused to take a bite out of his food until I sat down.

It was a moment before he spoke, but I couldn't tell you the satisfaction I felt at his eyes rolled to the back of his head at first taste of my steak and eggs. "Damn, this is good," he muttered with a mouth full of food. After swallowing he added, "You can cook."

I waved it off modestly. "It was nothing, really."

He took a bite of the waffles. "Ugh," he moaned. "Yep, you can definitely throw down."

I took a bite of my eggs. "It's just breakfast."

"I should just wife you right now," he said, a side smile stretching on half of his chiseled face. "Live and eat like a king every day."

My forehead creased. "_Wife_ me?"

"Wife you… you know, powder blue Roc-a-Wear suit, white Nike you….Marry you."

I narrowed my eyes, looking to the window at the familiar rap lyric. "Where have I heard that before?"

"Jah Hova and R Kelly. Take You Home With Me. " He continued to read my puzzled face. "Don't you ever listen to Jay-Z?"

I cut my steak with a knife carefully. "Clearly not as much as you." I scooped it into my mouth with some eggs.

"So yeah. Wife you… Marry you."

I cleared my throat at his statement. "More steak?" I asked, handing him the platter. I didn't have much of an appetite at the moment, my stomach full of butterflies over the very man eating before me.

Did I just say man?

"You don't want anymore?"

I shook my head. By then I'd had one and one half waffles, about two eggs worth of the scramble, and a few pieces of steak. "I'm good," I assured him.

"Then, sure," he mumbled with another stuffed mouth, sliding the rest of the sautéed meat onto his plate. Straightforward, he was. Shy, he was not.

We ate in silence, him hovering the rest of the grub, me trying desperately to fight the butterflies as I worked on the last half of my leftover waffle. I could feel him eying me from the side, studying my reaction.

I knew what he was looking for. Marriage. I couldn't wrap my mind around it, but my heart was aflutter at the mention of it. Luckily, it was my mind that held me to keep my head down, my face straight, and my eyes on my plate.

As I began to gather the rest of the dishes onto a pile to take to the sink he said, "Was that too much for you?"

"What?" I asked, evasively. I was hoping he'd leave it alone, but I was sure what he was going to say next.

"The wife comment. Too fast?"

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Uh…"

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me as he shoveled some eggs and beef into his mouth.

I turned away and began to rinse the dishes. "Kinda soon, don't you think?" I asked, hiding my face. It was a combination of shock, embarrassment, and premature elation. "And presumptuous." It was hard enough to wrap my head around dating him, let alone marrying him. However, there was still a spark somewhere inside me that he would consider such a commitment. I turned to look at him as soon as I composed my expression.

"Soon? Maybe. Presumptuous? Sure." His eyes studied me for a moment, and then locked with mine securely before he continued with, "Possible? Definitely." Voice like silk sheets against naked skin. I would hate it if I didn't love it so much.

Did I just say love?

Still, my face burned in response to his last statement. "Why don't you try graduating from high school first."

He put down his fork lightly, his eyes glowing. "Was that a deal?"

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "What?"

"I graduate, we get married?"

To my horror, I felt a smile coming on. _Compose your face_, I told myself. I'd always assumed I'd get married. I even thought about it while I was dating Darren Marx, assuming naively that we'd date through college, and have a wedding after graduation. But just as that ended sourly, so did my dream of marrying him. Afterwards, I'd sworn of guys, and even if I may have had applicants for the job, I'd thrown myself into studies, hanging with girlfriends, and part-time jobs. I'd been good about keeping myself level-headed. That is, until Paul. Somehow, I managed a scoff. "You're officially insane."

"What? I think we'd make a great team. You cook, I eat."

I laughed, but didn't respond. I was too speechless. Or to scared of what I'd end up saying if I opened my mouth.

Paul got the gist, and dropped it.

We finished our breakfast, and he insisted on doing the dishes. I dried and put them away. Afterwards, we lay back down on the mattress and watched some reruns of _Two and a Half Men_.

It wasn't long before he'd worked his body into mine, spooning me. Snuggling his face against my ears and taking a deep breath of the scent of my hair.

I felt him breathe in the scent of my hair, his arms tightening around me. "Thank you," he whispered. He turned his head so that his chocolate eyes could meet mine.

"It was nothing," I said, with a smile.

His mouth scrunched to one side as he shook his head lightly. "I don't just mean for breakfast."

"Oh?" I tilted my head to the side against the pillow. "What did you mean then?"

His lips brushed mine slightly as he said, "For letting this happen."

I let my fingers trace the contours of his face, my hands finding their way into his dark locks.

His eyes closed at the contact, and I heard him sigh.

This wasn't something I could simply say _you're welcome_ about. I was just as much as thankful about this as he was. "I don't think I could've kept going for longer… keeping away from you."

"Good," he practically sighed, relieved. "I couldn't stand another moment away from you either."

It was the truth, simple as that. No matter how old he was, or young he was as was the case, it didn't matter. He was wonderful, and I couldn't help but want him with me. It was everything I was trying not to see, all that I didn't want to face, but I knew it was always there, staring back at me.

Paul was mine. And I was his.

It was just that simple.

He settled back down on my side, his face against my cheek as I looked up towards the ceiling.

I had a million questions for him. I wanted to ask so much, but I was afraid to say too much. To ruin the moment. I bit my lip, curious to ask him something while in his embrace. "Can I ask you a question?"

I felt him smile against my cheek. "Shoot."

"Why me?"

His lips formed a pucker and pressed against my temple before he spoke. "There was never anyone else. Even when I was younger, before you and I met again on the beach this time, I'd always had a crush on you." He smiled to himself. "You know the gum thing?"

I frowned at the memory. "Yeah."

"Even then, I wanted your attention. Granted, I could've had a better approach then gum in your hair. But… if I hadn't impr—ugh, even I hadn't… fallen for you so recently, no one ever left an impression on me. The fact that it was you was not a surprise. I mean, yeah. That's it. There was never anyone else."

I grinned at that thought, that I was always that someone to him. But why, I wondered. "That still doesn't answer my question."

"Well, for obvious reasons, guys have always liked you. I was just simply one."

I furrowed my brows at him, confused. Guys always liked me? In what world? "I don't think so?"

"What's not to like? You're beautiful. You're smart. You're caring. You're very charming, when you want to be." He said that last bit with a small laugh.

I shook my head at that last bit myself, knowing he was referring to my evasion tactics and pushing him away.

"Amazingly funny, intellectual, comforting to be with," he continued. "I mean, to be all that and have a gorgeous face and a rockin' body to boot."

"What?" I asked, perplexed. Rockin' body? When?

"Everyone you babysat, with the exception of maybe Quil, your brother, and Collin, we all sweated you. For obvious reasons, of course." Collin was my baby cousin, a first cousin. And Quil a second. "Guys at school. Guys on the reservation. Even stupid pale faces at Forks High."

"Get real," I snorted, shoving him lightly. He had to be pulling my chain.

"Do you not see that?" Paul asked, a duh in his question again. "I guess you don't see yourself the way others do.

I wasn't sure how my face read, but I was sure it told him I wasn't the least bit convinced.

"Well, I guess that's okay. More than okay, if you didn't. I think the nicest quality about you is that you don't see yourself like that. You're hot and you don't know it. Completely oblivious to it, and that makes you even hotter."

He was right. I didn't know it. Hell, I didn't believe it. Because I wasn't. I'm not hot. I never was. "Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes. Clearly, this was all false.

He sighed, as if he was helpless in convincing me. "I'm drawn to your creativity, and your capacity to love those you care about to the point that it worries you. I love your amazing photos, your careful eye, your attention to detail. I love that your concern for Jake kept you up at night, and upset with people for not stopping him from leaving. I love that you couldn't come back here after… well, your loss."

My brows rose in surprise. "You loved that?"

"I understood it, and though I wished time and time again that you'd come home soon, I understand why you didn't. And I don't think you're a coward for it like you might. I think you're just human, and you feel everything with all of yourself. I'm much the same way. Passionate. It's why I lose my temper so frequently. I get too invested in, well, everything."

I was speechless. This insight to my persona shouldn't surprise me anymore. Paul seemed to know me from the inside out.

"Those are the things I'm drawn to about you," he said. "The fact that you're hot is just an added bonus."

I nuzzled against him further, my eyes shutting at his voice, so assuring, so loving, so comforting.

"You wished that I would come home?" I asked against his skin. What an odd thing. "I figured you'd forget about me."

A chuckle left him, his breath warm against my hair. "Well, whenever I was reminded of you. Like I said, only time and time again."

I squeezed my arm around him, and his arm squeezed me back.

It was a long while of silence before he shifted his weight so he was on top of me. His face was a serious expression. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Anything," I breathed.

"Don't leave," he whispered. "Don't move to Portland."

I was a little dumbfounded at the request. But I knew I shouldn't be. Of course he'd want me around.

He leaned his forehead into mine. "Please don't. Not yet."

A sharp breath escaped me. I didn't want to leave him myself.

"I'm asking you. Please don't leave. Not just yet at least. Give me some time. Time to work out my… obligations here. I know you want to get away, and I understand that. I'll do it with you, but when I can."

He nuzzled my face and I returned it, still silent.

He pressed his lips to mine ever so lightly. "When I'm done with my business here, I'll travel with you. Anywhere you want to go."

"You want to know something?" I asked with a smile.

"What?"

"I have the option to telecommute."

"Telecommute," he echoed, his eyes floating up to the ceiling. The shot back to me, his expression embarrassed. "What's that?"

"I can work from home. From anywhere, actually."

He jumped. "You can?"

I laughed, amused by his enthusiasm. "Yes, I can. I'd have to go to Portland for orientation and training for a few days. But I can come right back, and work from here."

His head tilted, his expression still excited. "How many days?" he pressed.

"Three."

He encased my face into his hands and pressed his mouth to mine. Passion in his kiss thrilled me to no end. He pulled away to look at me again. "You don't know how happy this makes me."

"Me, too," I responded as I smiled. I was still bewildered by his offer. Follow me? Anywhere? I didn't know a man would ever uproot his life for his woman like that. "Did you mean that?" I asked. "You'd go with me anywhere?"

"Anywhere," he promised, leaning his forehead to mine. His lips touched mine ever so lightly, and then pulled away teasingly. His tongue traced my lips before he kissed me again. God, he was an amazing kisser.

My hands were on his back in a heartbeat, tracing the amazing lines of all the defined muscle along the span of his shoulders and back. His skin was like a blanket, so smooth and soft over his hard muscles.

His tongue delved into my mouth, overpowering my senses. My hunger for him grew exponentially. "We probably shouldn't," I protested reluctantly as I felt his lips trail at my nape. "Someone might come home."

"No one's coming home for a while," he reassured me against my skin. "Billy and Charlie fish for hours. Jacob is… out with Embry and Quil, doing stuff for Sam. We'll be good for a few more hours."

I pulled away to look at him, a little weirded out. "You seem to know everyone's schedule pretty well."

He cleared his throat. "Uh… yeah. Small town. And we're all pretty tight these days." He shrugged. "Everyone knows Billy and Charlie go fishing all the time."

He leaned in again and closed his lips over my mouth, pulling my tank over my head. I quivered as his fingers worked their way down my body, yanking my panties down my legs.

His lips had the power to make me forget how strange it was that he knew exactly where my brother and father were. Forget what I needed to do that day. Forget my name.

I knew, in that moment, that there was a reason I had bumped into him on the beach this time that I'd come to visit home; a reason that it was his presence that had given me the strength to face my mother's grave; a reason that only his words could comfort me in my brother's absence; a reason that I had been so intensely attracted him, and not been able to resist him in all the times I'd seen him since...

It all clicked into place in my brain. Paul had said it himself the other day: _You're the reason for everything I do these days, Raych. I don't have any other reason to not be with you._

The truth of those words were so blatantly obvious—even more for me than for him—that I was floored by the idea that our meeting when we did had been no mere coincident. _Fate, or a higher being even, undoubtedly had a hand in these events,_ I thought.

As these thoughts flashed through my mind our tongues began dueling with a newfound passion. My hand wandered up the decadent, silky curve of his side. His luscious, copper skin was fire beneath my touch. I was abruptly riddled by an insatiable desire to explore his body in a way I had never done with another man before.

His mouth moved at a leisurely pace down my body, leaving a wet trail to my aching bosom. He smiled, slowly bringing his mouth to my breast and taking one taut nipple into his lips.

I gasped as he licked on it leisurely before enveloping it into his mouth and sucking forcefully, enticingly. I moaned at the sensation, tunneling my fingers through his hair. I threw my head back and I felt his hand grab hold of my tendrils, pulling them back as he placed slow, open mouth kisses from my breast, up my neck and to my chin.

Every kiss was getting faster, his hand found my breasts again kneading me gently but increasing in speed and eagerness as his mouth made a trail back down to my other breast. Finding the other nipple, neglected from his last exploration, he gave it his attention, tasting and nipping at it teasingly.

I pulled away as his hand descended downward on my body, my skin tingling with acute thrill. We both groaned in unison as his fingers found what they were looking for, his mouth devouring the skin of my neck and collarbone hungrily. His fingers rubbed against me at an ungodly speed. I nearly cried out as I could feel the heat spreading through my legs as they began to quake.

"Oh yes, Paul," I yelped, as the surge of my pleasure passed through me.

I flipped him over, and he followed my need with a keen curiosity, his face pleasantly surprised.

I straddled his thick waist, and positioned myself, and both of our mouths fell open in a gasp of gratification.

His chocolate eyes moved up and down my body with appreciative enthusiasm, leaving me to feel sexy. Desirable. Confident.

I rolled my hips forward and back against his, keeping a steady rhythm that left him breathless. His right hand cupped my hip, his fingers digging into my ass cheek as he guided my motions. The other hand snaked up to my breast, forming around its gentle weight, his finger pinching the tender peak of my nipple.

"Yes," I gasped, beginning to move faster.

He hissed in response, breathing through his teeth, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Raych, baby, fuck," he crooned.

I rode him, quickening my movements, curling my body strategically. The pressure of my impeding climax motivated me to keep up with the speed.

Paul bared on his teeth, absorbing my weight, my movements. Seeming to love it. Looking hot loving it.

I leaned into him, kissing his neck, following the curve of his shoulders. My hands moved leisurely against his amazing chest, the chest that I'd fantasized over for the last few weeks. So smooth, so perfect. His pecks were strong and solid underneath the soft flesh. His amazing six-pack abdominals were just as solid, just as strong. I immediately became more aroused feeling it with my palms, tracing it with my fingers.

I came undone on top of him in no time, rolling my hips forward in time with my convulsions. Sweat beaded all over me from a combination of my climax and his searing temperature.

"Oh, yeah, baby. That's right," he growled.

I went limp on top of him, struggling to catch my breath as my head fell on his amazing chest.

He flipped me over anyway, my body a trembling mass. Lifting my legs above me, he kept the back of my knees on his shoulders, my ankles over my head. I placed a hand on each side of his face and pulled his lips to mine in a searing kiss.

He watched me carefully as he moved, grunting. Breathing heavily through his nose, his teeth. He was enjoying himself, but he clearly enjoyed my pleasure as well.

It was hot. It was heavy. It was great. It wasn't long before I'd fully recovered with my last climax. Every nerve in my body was begging for yet another release.

The sensation alone was enough to send an explosive grenade impacting and crashing through me.

It was powerful enough to send him lunging into his own climax. "Oh fuck, baby… _fuck_," he droned. Exhausted and trembling, he removed my legs from his shoulders before collapsing next to me in a quivering mass.

After a long moment of silence, his stare was intense. "I love you," he said in a breath.

My heart stopped at those three words. He was once again the source of the earth's gravity—the center of my world. Nothing held me to anything anymore but him. Could he actually feel this way? I guess I'd always known he did, but the words still sent a breathless shock straight through me.

"I love you, too," I admitted out of pure reflex. Honest reflex. Because I did. It took this long for me to figure it out. But this was all I knew I'd ever wanted forever. And now I could admit it to myself with confidence. I was sure of it.

He smiled the widest I'd ever seen him, his eyes lighting up like the city of Seattle. "I know."

"This is crazy, you know."

A chuckle left his mouth, leaning his face into mine. "I know that, too." He rubbed his nose into mine. "But it feels right, though. Right?"

"Eh," I replied, playing around. But it did. So right.

"I know you agree."

I stared at his chocolate and toffee eyes, those amazingly long black lashes. I could bathe in his look of awe forever. "Maybe," I admitted.

After planting a huge kiss on my lips, he suddenly got to his feet, throwing on his shorts and shoes.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Get dressed," he ordered, lightly. "I wanna show you something."

"What?"

"You'll see," he said.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him as I headed for Jake's room where my clothes were, and grabbed a bra, a pair of shorts, and sandals.

After I changed, I grabbed my keys, following him out of the house.

"What is it?" I had to ask, with an unimaginable amount of interest and frustration.

He flashed a sexy smile at me over his shoulder. "Just come on."

I became a little wary as he headed for the woods, but like always I always had a sense of security and comfort with him, so I followed.

"Where are we going?" I figured he wanted to lead me to some hidden spot that was romantic or special to him. I wasn't sure what to expect but I was curious.

"It's not where we're going, but what I'm about to show you," he answered, cryptically. Of course. "You'll see."

"You're starting to sound like my dad," I grumbled.

He chuckled and kept moving.

But it was true. Dad would always be superstitious, and seemingly speak in code. Tribe myths. Quileute legends. Our native histories. Myths, legends, and histories that enthralled me as a child, ignored as a teenager, and forgot about in my adulthood. I wasn't sure why now, of all times, I remembered.

I followed Paul in silence, my curiosity piqued. My eyes continually scanned our surroundings in hopes of finding what he wanted to show me in the moss covered trees and ground. We hit a clearing after ten minutes of our hike.

He stopped at the foot of the clearing and turned to me. "I want to start this off on the right foot… no secrets. I want to tell you everything, but I think it's better to show you."

My brows furrowed. "You're not making any sense."

"Stay right there," he ordered, with an excited smile.

I folded my arms in front of my chest. "What's going on?"

He turned quickly and pressed his lips to mine before saying, "Just trust me and stay where you are."

"Okay," I breathed, because at that point, he could've asked me to do anything and I would've done it.

He charged forward, kicking off his shoes and dropping his shorts.

"Paul, what the hell?" Not that it was a bad view of his ass from where I was standing, but this didn't make any sense. Just as I was beginning to think he was into some kinky shit, he suddenly began to tremble in his run. And then next thing I saw was unmistakable yet impossible explosion of grey fur.

A grey wolf standing about twenty yards away from me, turned to face me.

Large. Menacing. My heart stopped, and forgot how to breathe. Fear took over. Whether it was approaching to attack or to be friendly, I wasn't sure, but I wasn't going to stick around and find out.

Out of pure reaction, I went with my first instinct.

_Run. _

I heard a high-pitched shriek before I knew it was coming from out of my own mouth. Screaming as the balls of my feet pushed off the ground and propelled my legs forward. Self-preservation won over rationale. The instinct for survival triumphed over a need for explanation.

In a small corner of my mind, I recalled the old story of the spirit warriors, and the power of the wolf. My dad called them legends, but always dismissed them as truth. Myths. They were supposed to be myths. But who was I kidding? I'd just seen a man—the man that I'd just made love to, in fact— blow-up into a gigantic dog, one that most certainly looked like it was built to kill. I wasn't about to stick around to see if it was coming to play fetch or to strike at me.

It was like it was all in slow motion, though I know it happened quickly. I ran, still screaming, knowing that the huge canine was probably on my tail. I couldn't stop. I wasn't going to.

But just as I headed deeper into the thicket of trees, another creature came charging into the clearing, in the direction I was headed.

I slid forward as my legs tried to screech to a halt at the site of another wolf, one that was even larger than the first, and a reddish brown color. It was like a nightmare coming to fruition. However, nothing would've prepared me for the next moment that happened so quickly I didn't know what hit.

It wasn't until that wolf morphed from the red fur into bronze skin that I totally lost it—wasn't until the ferocious creature turned into a naked man that looked exactly like my brother that I my lungs couldn't find air. The man's lips moved into the motion of my name, but my ears didn't hear his voice.

The last thing I remember was the sight of the grey, cloudy sky, before the world slipped away, retreating into total blackness.

* * *

**Endnote**:

* * *

Great news! After close to a year of a long distance marriage, I have finally found a job in my husband's town and will be moving into our house in the next few weeks! This is fabulous news, since he and I haven't lived together since we got married last year! However, this move will keep me away from writing for a bit. The next chapter has already started with about 2000 words, but will be put on hold while I make this life transition. I can promise you that the next chapter will be nice and lengthy, given the nature of its topic. Please bear with me while I get settled in my new life before I continue with the story. Thanks again!

Remember full explicit versions of my smutty chapters can be found on Twilighted (where my chapters are posted the earliest anyway). If you're not a Twi'd fan, you can also check them out on MyVampFicition. You may find these links on my profile.


	8. Chapter 8: Truth

Well, I'm moved in and started the new job! However, the new gig is kicking my ass! It's harder to find time to write now more than ever. I'm glad I got this out when I did. I'll be working on both Chapter 9 of HLW and, for those of you who are loyal fans and read Vanity and Patience, I will be working on an Epilogue to that as well.

**Playlist:**

Kelly Clarkson – Addicted

Sarah Bareilles – Breath Again

N' Sync - Selfish

**Thank you to my beta: ElvenIvy aka LauraWeasley**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Truth**

* * *

I was somewhere between dreaming and lucid, but I wasn't sure. I just remember I needed to get away from them: the unnaturally tall canine monsters on all fours that charged after me in the forest of green spongy moss.

But part of my mind seemed to know who they were. Part of me seemed to know I wasn't in danger. But it didn't matter, because a larger part of myself was sensible enough to know I needed to flee.

Except I couldn't. They were too fast. Their teeth too long and too sharp. And when I fell to the ground and spun around to face the giant grey wolf, I screamed.

I came to in familiar, comforting surroundings: the living room in my childhood home. My eyes hadn't fully focused, but I knew the tan color of the wall and ceiling fan anywhere.

"She's coming around," I heard a deep voice say.

I felt a hand on my head. "Rachel." A whisper. My father's.

"Dad?" My voice was hoarse.

"Rachel, how are you doing? You all right?"

"I had a bad dream," I moaned.

"It's all right, dear. Everything's just fine." My eyes slowly focused in on a blurry vision of my father by the couch, his glossy hair half up.

I turned my head to see both my brother and another man standing over me with worried expressions. Another man who bore a striking resemblance to Paul.

Wait. Was that Paul?

Everything was still too blurry to tell, my vision murky.

"We got you home," my dad continued, "and no one will phase in front of you anymore." His tone seemed reprimanding. But why?

Wait. What did he just say?

Phase? In front of me? My eyes switched between each man in the room. My dad and brother eying the third guy with disappointment. Slowly, my mind made the connection. The two wolves. Jacob and Paul.

The realization hit me like a freight train. My dream wasn't a dream at all.

"N-No…. No!"

They all spoke at the same time in protest as I felt the room begin to spin.

"Rachel—"

"Calm down, Raych."

"Easy there, sweetheart."

I struggled to get up, but there was a large throbbing in my head that kept me down. "Ouch." That was when I noticed an icepack on the side of my head.

That, and my father's gentle, yet firm hand pressed down 0n my arms, shaking his head at me. "Easy," he said, a hand coming to comb my hair like he used to do when I was a little girl. "You took quite a fall when you fainted. Hit your head pretty hard." I felt Paul advance towards me without looking his way, but my father waved him off.

I heard an exhale of frustration from the corner of the room, finding the source from the corner of my eye. Paul, looking at his feet. I guess he had retreated from where I lay. I didn't get that good a look at him. It was only a tiny glance, a millisecond before my father's voice had me turn my attention back to him.

"I think it's time that you learn the truth about your heritage. Our tribe. Our family." His voice was authoritative, grave. Strong.

"Truth?" I echoed, swallowing hard.

Reluctantly, he told me the story in that same strong tone. I tried to keep my eyes on the ceiling as he did so, unable to look at my brother or Paul. They chimed in once in a while, but mostly let my father speak, especially about our history.

They told me everything—that all the legends about Taha Aki and his sons were the truth. How my great grandfather, Ephriam, along with his friends, Levy Uley, and Quil Ateara, I were also wolves; their first transformations brought on by the Cullens when they visited many years ago. The same Cullens who are here now. The Cold Ones. Vampires. The thought of them always creeped me out, and confirmation that they were something else made me shiver.

My father continued on, about how when the Cullens showed up again, all the young boys began to phase, starting with Sam, then Jared, then Paul, and eventually to my brother. All the way down to my baby cousin Collin. I was even told about the hierarchy, how Sam was the Alpha, and that his orders were obeyed no matter what.

My stomach twisted to knots, and my throat grew dry at this revelation.

You go about life normally. You never think that anything strange would happen; that it would be happening around you all the time.

Right under your nose.

The myth turned fact. I was floored.

In total shock.

But I couldn't deny any of this as the truth. I guess there was always a part of me, a very tiny part that I'd buried in my adulthood, that actually believed in the legends and the myths of this tribe. And what I saw earlier that day was undeniable.

I was able to sit up after a long while, training my eyes on the stack of magazines on the coffee table as they continued on with the story. "So… you're telling me… you are … werewolves… and that you phase into wolves that are larger than horses?"

"Yes," both Jake and Paul answered in unison.

"And that all the boys do this?"

"Yes," they all said.

I turned to my brother, studying his close-cropped hair, the similar build he had to the other guys on the reservation, the same round tattoo on his forearm. "Including you?"

"Yep." His voice was matter-of-fact. He seemed quite relieved that he could admit this to me.

I still hadn't looked at Paul. I was too wierded out. Too… I don't know. I wasn't sure what I was feeling, about him. About the situation. But it wasn't good.

I suddenly recalled the vision of that same circular tattoo, but on a feminine arm. "Leah. Leah's a wolf, too?"

My father nodded.

My mind continuedprocessing.. Leah phased along with them. No wonder she's been so bitter. Not only did Sam leave her for her cousin, but she was now forced to be part of his pack. My heart sank for her. Poor Leah.

"Do you have any questions?" my father asked.

I shook my head, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

"Well, we're here if you need anything."

There was one question that lingered. "If this is such a secret, why am I being told?" My voice came out strangled, detached. In the periphery of my vision, I sensed Paul's dismay.

An uncomfortable silence followed. My father was the one who cleared his throat, his face and posture uneasy. "Well, that's because Paul has…. imprinted on you," my dad said.

My face burned, thinking that was another word for sex. Maybe a wolf term for mating. I could've just died right there. "Excuse me?" God, can they sense what we just did? Can my father?

"It's part of the legend, a phenomenon. Only happening on rare occasion. After phasing, a young man sees a certain young woman, unique to him, and suddenly nothing holds him to the earth but her. A powerful force that he can't control, where the lady becomes the center of his world. It's the way they choose a partner, a mate, drawn to those who would genetically make stronger wolves in the next generation."

While I was greatly relieved that it wasn't synonym for sex, I was still not appeased. Choosing a partner. A mate. My eyes floated Paul's way on instinct, his espresso eyes on me. I felt an undeniable spark within me, but I was still too upset to succumb to it. My eyes darted away immediately in defiance, turning their attention to my father.

"Again, it is supposed to be a rare phenomenon, but it seems to have affected several members of the pack already. Sam. Embry. Quil."

My breath left my mouth in a huff, but it was more a form of a scoff. I chewed on my lip, trying to digest this information. A phenomenon.

I could sense Paul's uneasy disposition the corner of the room, could sense his displeasure in the situation. His regret. It was so strange, my intuition about him, much like his had always been about me. Except for the whole exploding-into-a-wolf thing.

But that force. That magnetic pull.

Imprinting. Could that be?

I glanced his way, unable to resist the temptation. A result of imprinting? Probably. But I had to check on him, a true concern for him rooted within me. His eyes were cast down, his arms folded in front of his chest. His fingers tapped impatiently against his elbow. His face, or what I could see of it, was remorseful, frustrated. Somehow, he seemed smaller than he usually was, not so tall or broad as I'd usually see him. I wasn't sure why the change in my perception. Maybe it because he was at fault, and I knew it. He knew it.

He must've felt my eyes on him because he looked up, his eyes careful yet fearful. But as soon as our eyes met, I turned away.

My eyes turned towards my brother. "You. What were you doing in the woods?"

He sighed. "I was going to try to stop Paul, or at least explain everything to you before you could run away, since the dumbass was too stupid not to give you a heads up." He eyed Paul with blatant condemnation as he said this, but then turned back to me. "I didn't think you'd go running my way when I phased. I didn't think you'd… run into me like that." His face flushed.

Both of us were embarrassed by the memory, our eyes not meeting, but I pressed on. "How did you know he was going to do that?"

"I heard his mind the moment he phased and saw you standing there before him, so I came running over. I couldn't get to you fast enough, and when I phased back to human form, there you were."

I felt my dad's hand rubbing my back. I was sure he knew that I was trying to force the vision of my naked brother out of my head.

But something Jake said made my posture ramrod straight. "Wait. You can hear each other's minds?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "But only in wolf-form."

I stared incredulously at Paul, and then back at Jacob. And then at my father. My cheeks burned flaming red as I realized that my brother probably saw everything that happened this morning. My face fell into my hands. "Oh, God."

I felt my father's hand rub my back with awkward, stiff strokes of a shaky hand in an effort to soothe me. "There, there. Everything is… okay."

Humiliation got the best of me, and I grabbed a throw pillow and pressed it over my head. I wanted to cry.

"Rachel," my father said. "Everything is fine."

But as I thought of it, I realized something more. Another realization hit me, and I jerked away from his hand. My eyes turned to him accusingly. "You knew! You knew didn't you?"

My father gave me a puzzled look, a look that I was sure was echoed on Jake and Paul's faces. "Knew what?'

My face contorted, my lips pressing into a straight line in anger. "You all knew where Jacob was."

They all flinched before they exchanged nervous glances with each other.

I turned to my father. "You knew, didn't you? That he was safe. That's why you weren't worried. All those updates from Sam and the boys."

"Sweetheart—"

My accusatory eyes met Paul's before my father could say anything, his full of guilt. "You. You knew all this time."

"Raych, come on. It wasn't something I could share without—"

"You _knew_!" I exclaimed, my voice catching at the end of my last word. I felt tears brimming in my eyes as I rose slowly from the couch.

"Rachel, sweetheart, calm down," my father tried to say, but my brother cut in.

"Rachel, yes they all knew, but it was my decision to leave. I chose not to come back so soon," Jacob said.

My eyes switched to him, staring at him incredulously. "You left Dad! And you all knew! And you made me look like a fool!"

My brother's demeanor only pissed me of more: so relaxed. Calm. Unapologetic. "We couldn't just tell you everything without the whole secret coming out."

I stood there, shaking my head, my limbs trembling, my fingers twitching, my eyes focusing on my car keys. They tried to reason with me, but I couldn't focus on much of anything else. I didn't hear their sorry excuses or their tired explanations, all three of them protesting in unison. I was that livid. "I've heard enough!"

My father reached for me. "Rachel—"

"I think I need some time to myself," I choked out, yanking myself away from his grasp.

I was aware of Paul the whole time, even though my eyes weren't directly on him. His face fell in what could only be heartbreak, because my heart felt it too. But I wasn't going to let it get to me.

I could hear my brother and my father try to stop me.

"I have to go," I growled in a strangled voice. In the corner of my mind, I wondered why Paul wasn't trying to talk me out of leaving, why he stood there, letting me go.

I stormed out of the house and into my car. Driving. Heading to… I didn't know where. I contemplated Seattle, visiting Dana. For a few days. Maybe weeks. Maybe moving in with her. Or maybe driving to SeaTac Airport and buying a ticket to Hawaii to see my sister. But with what money? The coffee shop didn't give me enough savings for an impromptu trip to the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

I needed to talk to someone about the whole situation, but there was a huge part of me that knew I needed to keep it under wraps. There was still a desperation, a need to vent, air out my feelings and frustrations about being left in the dark, about being ignorant of it all.

There was only one other person I could talk to. I reached the house, hesitating at the door before knocking.

The door opened before I could finish my knock. "Rachel! How nice to see you."

"Hi, Sue," I greeted, trying to disguise my emotions and keep my voice even. "Is Leah home?"

Leah came bouncing into the living room in a cheerful mood. "Hey, girl. Whoa, you smell like…" But then, I took off my shades, and her eyes truly took me in, and her face fell. "Oh, God," she breathed. "You know."

Sue's eyes switched between us both. "I'm going to leave you two alone to talk." She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "I'm going to the store if you need or want anything?"

Leah shook her head.

Nodding a silent goodbye and thank you to Sue, I stared at Leah, so tall, so lean, so strong. So beautiful. I remembered the towering, menacing canine. It was hard to believe she changed into the same creature.

Her eyes rolled, her jaw tightening. "God, please stop looking at me like that."

"I'm sorry," I breathed, turning away.

"So he told you everything?"

I nodded, looking at my feet, but then my eyes met hers.

She sat down in an armchair in her living room, motioning me to have a seat on their brand new couch across from her.

"He tell you about me, too?"

"Well, no, not exactly?"

She looked confused, so I continued. "They mentioned that everyone was phasing, and I figured out that you were one because I recognized the tattoo on their arm... the one like yours."

"Ah," she said, nodding, looking somewhat surprised. "I figured he would've aired out_ everyone's_ dirty laundry. Wait, _they_?"

"That's not something my dad would do," I answered.

"Your dad? Your _dad_ was there?"

I nodded, folding my arms uncomfortably.

"What exactly happened today?" she asked. "I haven't phased, so I don't know."

"You don't?" I asked.

"No. I can't read their mind like this. I have to go wolf to know everything, and today's my day off."

"You have days off?"

She sighed, her eyes rolling a second time. "We take shifts, yes."

"Oh."

"So... are you gonna tell me or what?"

"Well, Paul and I were... hanging out... this morning," I told her, skipping all the unnecessary details. "And then we said some things to one another, and he all the sudden lead me to the woods. He said he wanted to start things off right. No secrets. And then he just... phased?" I looked at her to confirm the term.

She nodded. "Okay..." She waited for me to go on.

"That's what happened. Only that's all that he said. I didn't know what was going on. He just got naked and blew up into a dog."

"Ah, I see." She shook her head. "Idiot," she mumbled under her breath. "So he didn't prep you on anything. He decided to just show you."

"Pretty much. So then I ran from him, screaming. And then I ... I ran into another wolf."

Her brows raised. "Really? Who?"

"The wolf phased into my brother."

Out of nowhere, she broke into a fit of laughter.

"This isn't funny, Leah."

"Oh God, to find out both your man and your brother is a wolf all in the same moment... oh my God."

"Seriously, stop it," I grumbled, taking a throw pillow and chucking it at her.

She caught it with amazing reflex, no effort at all. "And you saw him phase back?"

I frowned at the picture in my head.

She laughed harder, and I knew she knew I was trying not to picture my little brother naked.

"Stop!" I exclaimed, trying not to laugh, still full of disgust.

"Oh please, Rachel. I have to see them naked all the time," she sniffed. "Get used to it."

Gulping, I shook my head and tried to focus. I wasn't comfortable with either fact. "Did you want to hear it or not?"

"Go right ahead."

I finished telling the story, how I fainted and woke up at home, with my father looking over me, and the boys in the room. How I'd sat through it all, and got the whole story.

When I finished, I took a deep breath and stood up from my seat, looking out their front window.

"So now you're pissed, because you've been left in the dark, I gather?"

I nodded. "I just feel like... a fool, for one. And two, Paul knowing so much about me, I guess I feel like he took advantage of that knowledge to try to get closer to me."

"Is that what you think?"

I turned to her, my face serious. "Yes."

"You know, he isn't my favorite person in the world, but I seriously doubt he was taking advantage of anything."

I turned back to staring at the tree in their yard. "He knew where Jake was, and when he knew I was worried about him, he tried to reassure me that Jake was all right. Meanwhile he_ knew_ all along where Jacob was. What he was doing." I turned a glare at her. "All of you did," I managed to spit out, my voice was curt. Resentful.

She shrugged. "Yeah. So?" It was defensive, and blaze.

I didn't appreciate her tone. I turned my whole body around, anger rolling off me in waves as Leah stood up defensively. "I can't believe none of you told me. I can't believe all of you let me worry. I feel like such a dumb ass."

Her arms folded in front of her chest. Her eyes narrowed incredulously, her expression annoyed. "And what did you expect us to do?" her voice was defensive, almost angry. "It's not like we're at liberty to tell you the secret. We're under orders to keep silent. And there was no way to tell you the whole truth about your brother's whereabouts without giving that all away. I mean you do realize we were put in an awkward spot when you were asking us where he was. All of us were."

"But—"

"We're under silent order with_ everyone_," she cut me off, her tone brazen. "Not just you."

"Yeah, but—"

"But what? It's not my place to tell. Not Billy's, not Jake's. It's _Paul's_, because _you_ are his imprinted. You hadn't even accepted Paul, so he couldn't tell you until you'd given in to him. Too busy playing hard to get. Denying him and all for weeks."

I said nothing back, because I knew she had a point. Still, I was annoyed at her tone with me, even when she was part of them—the many who let me worry like a complete idiot over Jake.

"Clearly, you gave in today. Which is probably why you finally got the story. Why he told you, or showed you rather."

"I hardly gave in," I denied.

She scoffed. "Oh really? Is that why his scent is all over you?"

I blushed hard, my eyes shutting.

"Seriously, dude. You can't deny shit. You completely reek of Paul."

"All right, all right." I sighed, lifting my hands in a ceasefire. Stupid dogs and their heightened sense of smell.

We both sat back down in our seats, her dark eyes studying me. "So why are you here? Why aren't you talking this out with him?"

I shook my head, looking down at the stack of magazines on their coffee table. "I just can't be around them right now."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I guess I hold all three of them more to their word, that they wouldn't keep silly stuff from me." I switched my eyes to her, her own intent on me. "You and I are different. We're not blood. I can let go of it, you keeping a secret like this from me. But my brother? My father?"

"Your new man?" She finished off with a smirk.

I shook my head again. "I don't even know what happened. I can't even say what we are. What the hell is imprinting anyway?"

She chuckled humorlessly, throwing her head back, and then taking a deep breath. Her eyes were pained when they returned to me. She said nothing of course.

"Sorry," I whispered, realizing what I'd just referred to. Realizing what my friend was going through. Being in a wolf pack with her ex-boyfriend. The love of her life. The man who left her for her cousin, and now was her alpha.

She nodded quietly, looking away and biting her lip. "It's whatever," she whispered back.

I needed to change the subject… at least from the imprinting aspect of it. My mind raced with so many questions. It was hard to formulate them into coherent sentences at the moment, my mind completely frazzled. "How did... When did this..."

"Happen?" She finished.

"Yeah," I said.

She shifted in her seat, cracking her neck as she tilted her head from side to side. "It was about a year ago. Mom and I were arguing about my mood swings. She was insisting I had them. Of course, I didn't think I did at the time. But I'd been having fits of rage for the last few years, and somehow that put me over the edge, her insistence in me controlling my mood swings. I lost it after she said she'd have me see a shrink. I began to shake and then I felt this heat... and before you knew it, I was on all fours in front of her, my brother, and my dad. I broke the couch with my claws and paws."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Out of shock, my brother phased, too. And that was when..." but then her eyes became distant and sorrowful.

"When what?" I asked.

Her eyes welled up with tears, and she swallowed. "My dad..."

"He had a heart attack from that?"

"Well, no. But he had a sharp pain in his chest. It went away after a minute or so, so he thought he was fine. But then later that day, he went hunting with Charlie to try to find whatever was killing folks in the area, and that's when his heart gave. Charlie thought it was us wolves, because his stupid daughter saw the boys try to kill a vampire and went running to tell him. But it was a Cold One."

I narrowed my eyes, not realizing the full extent of how Isabella Swan was involved in everyone's life.

"To this day, I think it was the sight of a stupid leech that did it. Sent him straight into cardiac arrest." Her jaw clenched tightly. "There was a Cold One running around that day."

I shook my head at the tragedy.

"But sometimes..." she began.

"Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes I think... if I hadn't phased... if he just hadn't witnessed me..."

"It's not your fault, Leah."

"Yeah, but—"

"You said it yourself. It was a Cold One. Not you."

Her mouth opened to protest, but I leaned in further, trapping eyes her in my gaze. "It wasn't your fault."

She nodded quietly, but I could tell in her teary eyes that she didn't believe it.

At that moment, in burst Sue, with a bag of subs. "I got us some lunch."

I saw her stare at her daughter with deep concern, but Leah waved it off as if to say "It's nothing. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

I followed Leah into their eat-in kitchen, half thankful for the break at such an emotional point of our conversation, and half wanting more time to convince Leah that Harry's death wasn't her doing. We ate lunch with Sue, and then excused ourselves to Leah's room where we watched the many how-to-put-together-an-outfit shows on the Style Network.

"You gonna go see Paul after this?" she asked.

"No. Why?" I asked, annoyed.

"Because... you two are together now."

"Hardly."

"Really?" she pressed, unconvinced.

"I still think he took advantage of his knowledge. I think he used all he knew from you and Jake to his benefit to get on my good side. And this imprinting voodoo magic is bull shit. It's just a trick to blind you into thinking someone's the one."

Her face fell into an "Oh, come on" expression. "Seriously, Rachel?"

"Seriously."

"The truth is… Paul loves you. And I've seen it in his mind. In every mind of every pack member that has imprinted. There is no one else you'll ever want in this world but him, because he'll… he'll live for you."

I reached my hand to touch her shoulder lightly, because I knew without her even telling me. I knew who she was referring to. That she'd seen it in Sam's very head, how he feels about Emily. How he'd live for her. "Leah."

Her eyes shut, the tears spilling over, stretching in glistening lines down her cheek to her chin line.

And that's when I realized the hardships that she had to deal with, from phasing as the only female wolf, to being subjected to all the packs thoughts and memories…. Including Sam Uley's.

"The wolf thing wouldn't be so bad, if it weren't for our telepathy. That makes it the worst."

"Leah..."

Shaking herself out of it, she straightened her face and grabbed the remote, switching it to Bravo. "Awesome. Project Runway marathon."

I took it as a cue that she didn't want to continue, but after a few minutes with our eyes on the television she starts again with, "Imprinting allows you to see the best in someone. At least that's how I see it from other people's eyes. You're powerless against it." There was a noticeable tremble in her voice as she spoke.

How horrible it would be to hear that from a man you thought you'd marry one day—to see how he feels about the one he left you for through his own eyes, in his own head ."Leah."

"Yeah?"

There were a ton of questions in my mind about this. How did she feel when she heard his thoughts? Saw all he saw? Felt all the things Sam was feeling? "We don't have to talk about this if..."

"Hey, secret's out, right? Might as well hear it all now."

Turning the television down with the remote, she went on to tell me about her first day, how it felt to hear everyone's thoughts. She told me that once you phase, you can feel everyone who's in wolf, and they can feel you. She can hear each young man's thoughts. Particularly Sam's. It wasn't until she'd phased that she'd seen it all in Sam's head, the way things went down. She saw how powerless he was to fall for Emily. She saw how Emily diligently tried to pull away. She saw how after a long time of coaxing, she finally gave in. And she saw how great he was to her, how anyone would be helpless to resist a love like that.

I listened intently as she told me the story, trying not to look at her with pity. She would hate me for it.

"So yeah. That's what I saw."

"And that's why you're trying? Why you agreed to be a bridesmaid and all?"

"Yeah," she responded, clearing her throat and scratching her head. "I realized I couldn't be so mad at them anymore. Of course, that doesn't keep me from being bitter, but I knew I had to somewhat forgive her."

"Oh."

She gave me a halfhearted smile. "So now you know why I didn't say no to being in the wedding."

My mouth stretched poorly as I tried to give one back. "Right."

"Anyway, getting back to you... Paul is a dumbass. Always has been," she said.

I chuckled in response, and partially in agreement.

"If I had to pick one of the guys, he is the last I'd choose for you." Her face fell serious. Sincere. "But he loves you."

I bit my lip and turned away, watching Tim Gunn tell some 50's chic designer the workroom to "Make it work." I was thankful that she didn't bring up Paul anymore, and that we could sit there and watch several episodes of Project Runway and comment on the awesome garbs that came out of the show.

"I'd kill to have that skirt," I sighed, marveling at this great silk number on the model.

"I'd kill to have those legs," Leah said.

I turned to her with furrowed brows. "Uh... you do have those legs."

"No I don't," she scoffed.

"Uh, yes, you do. What are you, like, 5'9" now?"

"5'10"," she corrected me.

"See! Your legs go up to Mount Rainier, I swear."

She smiled a genuine smile for once, pleased to hear the compliment. I was happy to give her some reason to be glad about what she's become.

"You are exactly like them. You're a straight up model. You just aren't on TV."

"Whatever," she laughed, and we continued on watching the show.

I left Leah's house feeling a little bit better about the situation, but I was still full of stubborn pride about being left out by my own brother, my own father. My... lover?

Could I even call him that? Never mind, I told myself as I pressed on the gas pedal to push me down the road much further. I wasn't going to ponder on that just yet.

I refused to go home at the moment, wanting more time to myself. Wanting to be alone. Of course the road lead me to First Beach, but considering how many times I'd run into people there, especially the one person in particular—considering the memories and feelings about _him _I now associated with this beach—I decided I'd keep walking past that area. I'd parked where I always did, finding the beach's steep trail next to the small creek lined with Sitka Spruce. But as I walked forward towards the water, I cut left when I got to the sand, deeper still past the more populated beach area.

I hiked further along the coast, maybe about a half mile, finding Second Beach. It was sandy and broad, hemmed by dramatic bluffs and headlands. All our beaches were hemmed by such natural landmarks. Second Beach was much like first, with rocky areas that contrasted the sandy expanse beside it, and tide pools punctuating the space in between that and the crashing waves of the Pacific. However, it was decidedly more isolated than First Beach, but not as deserted as Third Beach, which was another half mile hike away.

I sat on the trunk of a dead spruce, one much sturdier than the one on First beach, and stared toward Teahwhit Head, a headland off the coast with a great, natural arch. I marveled at the beauty of it, of the whole beach. I was the only one there, and I figured to myself that this was my new place to think. Funny how that was. I had avoided all these lands for years, the very landscape that made me yearn for my mother to the point that it made me uncomfortable, too depressed to stick around. Now, however, it was a solace. At this beach, I was at peace.

I wasn't sure if that was because of my acceptance of things. I wasn't sure if it was because I was able to face her grave, and in turn, her death, and my loss. My mind naturally drifted back to Paul. He had been everything I needed, all the way up to the point where he'd all but exploded into a dog. He'd help me face my demons with my mother, assured me against my worries about Jake.

But wasn't he at an advantage, considering he knew exactly where Jacob was, and what my brother was up to?

So maybe it was beyond their control to tell me anything. I recalled what Leah had told me: they were put in an awkward spot. Knowing the whole truth about my brother, but not being able to share it because of the secret they vowed to protect. It had to be difficult for my father. For Paul. Leah knew this, because it was hard on her. I believed her when she told me that she hated looking into my eyes and pretending not to know what my brother was up to. Somehow, though, I didn't hold her as accountable for withholding this information as my own father and ... boyfriend.

Which brought me to that same question again: Could I even call him that? Sure, we'd made informal decisions on being together. We'd exchanged those three words that change everything. We'd had furiously hot sex, that teetered on the emotional borders of making love. But after his revelation, his scaring me, now what?

My mind lingered on the sex for a moment. The crazy, hot, toe-curling sex. It was incredible. I'd never felt so good before, and the action made me feel whole, complete. Never in my life had sex caused such an effect. I had always felt like someone was taking something from me. But with Paul, it felt a sense of oneness.

I forced my head out of the gutter—out of his pants—trying to remember why I fought this all along.

To be in love with a high school student was one big deal already. But to have him be a werewolf?

I thought of my brother, who I know, no matter the circumstance, would always be my brother, whether he turned into a dog, a cat, or a lizard. But he was my brother—related to me by blood. Nothing was ever going to really change our relationship to one another.

But Paul… I had so many doubts. I now questioned everything. Did he use his knowledge of my brother's whereabouts to his advantage to get closer to me? If he didn't, then why did I feel so deceived? Could I really forgive him for playing me for a fool? _Was_ he playing me for a fool?

Another rather important detail plagued me. I had to question the legitimacy of his feelings, given the fact that imprinting was some unknown magical force that seems to strip you of your will. Did he really love me? Or was it because some stupid werewolf hokus pocus?

I bit my lip, and instantly regretted it. I could still taste the minty sweetness of his mouth on my tongue, the saltiness of his skin. The woodsy smell of him lingered on my own skin, my clothes. In my hair.

A loneliness tugged at my heart, a longing sucking me in. I could try and give it my all to fight how I feel about Paul, but the truth was, I was losing.

The day was still beautiful, but as always, overcast, and the sun, now orange, was beginning to set. As I licked my lips, I could taste the salty spray coming off the crashing breakers nearby. That was when I realized I wasn't alone, catching a glimpse of someone approaching from over my shoulder.

Jake sauntered over, thankfully in full-length jeans and a shirt. If I had to see more of his body today, I think I'd have a complex. Once was enough.

On total reflex, I checked behind him.

"He's not with me," Jacob replied to an unspoken question.

"Oh," I breathed, surprised. I didn't think that Paul would let my brother look for me without him. I would think he'd be here, ready to drag me home.

"He's uh… giving you the space you need." He plopped down on the trunk next to me, his long legs bending to accommodate his large body.

I scoffed at his explanation. How the hell would Paul know what I needed?

"It's just something that imprinting helps you to know. Kinda like an intuition. He's programmed to give you everything you want and need from him, even if you don't know it yourself. Or ask him directly. He'll just know."

I flinched again at Jacob's answer. "Did I just ask a question? Or are you reading my mind now, too?"

He laughed humorlessly. "You asked."

"God," I grumbled, shaking my head. "I don't even know if I'm speaking out loud anymore."

"It's okay," he said. "I don't imagine you're feeling much normal right now."

"Normal," I mumbled. "Nothing is normal here. Nothing."

He nodded. "True." Suddenly his arm reached a sweater out to me. "He insisted I give this to you though."

I took it relunctantly. I turned to him, scrutinizing his profile. "How did you find me?"

He smirked. "You really wanna know?"

I wasn't sure if I did, actually.

When I didn't answer his question, he just answered mine. "Saw your car, and as I approached it, caught and followed your scent."

"Eww, Jake."

Jake let out a large guffaw. "What? Everyone has their own unique smell. My senses are heightened."

Though I found myself taking a small sniff under my arm as covertly as I could.

"It's an advantage we have." He paused for a moment before chuckling, his elbow giving me a nudge. "And by the way, I saw that." His finger made a motion between my nose and armpit.

I shot him a glare. "God, I hate you."

He laughed harder.

I looked away, trying not to be sensitive to his light teasing. He was certainly still my brother. Happy, go lucky goofball. Same as ever. Only he changed.. or "phased" as they call it, into a wolf.

He put a hand on my shoulder and I flinched back.

"Whoa, sis," he protested. "It's still me, you know."

"I, uh.." I couldn't help but stutter. " I know that."

"Really? Is that why you act like I have cooties?"

"Cooties? What? Are you like eight again?"

He didn't answer my question, just laughed a little bit and stared out into the horizon for a moment before speaking again. "You still mad?"

I let out a sigh. I wasn't sure how to answer. Yes, I was upset, but I knew I couldn't stay mad for too long… at least not with Jake or my father.

"I take that as a yes."

I shrugged, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Look, I—we, Dad and I—were prepared to keep the secret from you. No one is supposed to know. Before I got here, I was prepared to hide this part of my life from you. From Becky if she ever visited. I didn't plan to be gone so long. I didn't plan to have Charlie Swan post my picture all over Forks like some missing kid."

I kept my mouth shut as he spoke, though I wanted to interrupt him. Ask him: how could you?But I gave him his chance to speak.

"How would I know you'd see the flyers and come facing dad? How would I know you'd go asking everyone if they knew where I was? None of us planned on this. But you have to remember, to admit that they knew where I was they would have to admit what we are, and why we know. It was beyond our control."

I bit my lower lip, chewing over his words.

"And then Paul had to go imprint on you."

I snorted in response to his statement.

"It's kinda awesome in some way, that I can share this with you. I could only imagine how hard it would be to explain my long absences, my lack of wardrobe. My temper."

I turned to look at my brother, aging lines around his face that was once so cherubic and cute. "I guess," I admitted.

"Of course, I would've picked another brother for you to imprint on but—"

I let out a sharp exhale.

My brother looked at me, misery and happiness in his eyes, somehow coexisting together, side by side. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

He laughed. "You're right. I'm not."

"I mean, I guess I understand," I acknowledged. "But that doesn't make me feel any less stupid."

He nudged me. "I know, I know. And I'm sorry it all happened this way."

I nodded silently, my way of accepting the apology.

"As for Paul, he's a big idiot for showing you like he did. He could've given you some warning."

"Ya think?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Not the brightest bulb in the pack, that's for sure," he said.

"That's not true," I defended him, not sure where it came from.

"Whoa," he chuckled.

"What?"

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. "Hmm, got it bad for him, I see."

"What? No," I denied, clearing my throat.

"It's cool," my brother pressed. "I get it—you see the best in him, if ever there was a 'best.'" His fingers made quotation marks in the air. "Imprinting will do that to someone."

"Shut up," I groaned.

"It's true, obviously. For you to think he has some smarts."

"Well he does," I said.

Jake shook his head. "And another one bites the dust."

I shivered in reaction to the sea breeze, now more of a cool wind since the sun was almost gone. I ended up slipping my arms into the sweater Jake brought me... the one Paul insisted he bring for me.

I narrowed my eyes as I watched Jake pick up a rock nearby and chuck it at the water. "Is that what happened to you?"

He picked up another rock and stared at it. "What do you mean?"

"With… Charlie's daughter. Did you imprint on her?" His drastic stunt with leaving town, our dad, everything, was so uncharacteristic of him. It would make sense that he'd imprinted on her.

His grip tightened over the rock, a shadow growing over his face. He let out a long exhale. "No."

I was taken aback by that. "Really?"

"You think if I did, she'd've picked Dracula over me?"

I laughed. "You've got jokes."

"I do."

"So where exactly did you go? And what did you do all that time?"

"I don't know. I went north, far into the forests... deep into Canada. I'm not sure. I just sorta went wolf... y'know? Gave into my nature... ate whenever I was hungry, slept whenever I was tired. Just existing... on the move constantly."

"Is that what wolves do?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess. But that's what I did." He chucked a rock out into the water, skipping the stone across its surface.

I studied his face for a moment, battling whether or not to ask my next question. "Did it help?"

He was quiet as he thought it over. And then he shook his head, biting his lip and cleared his throat. "In some ways, yeah. But it didn't solve everything."

"You need to be a little specific," I said.

"Well, I came back in almost a healthy place. Not completely healed, but in good spirits, you know? Ready to wish her well in her new life as... his." Another shadow crossed his face, his jaw clenching tightly. "But then I found out..." His voice trailed.

"Found out what?"

He was ready to say more but then he stopped mid-throw of the next stone, turning a confused eye at me. "How did this become about me again?"

"Jake... you need to talk to someone."

"No I don't."

"You ran away. Clearly, you need to work this out."

"Not really. But even if I did, it's weird talking to you. You're my sister... you were like a mother to me for a few years."

"Yeah," I muttered. "So?"

"So talking to you about girls," he held his hands out flat, twisting his wrist in a motion like it was a bad idea, his face in a wince.

"All right I get it."

"So if I'm like a mother to you, why are you talking to me about a guy?"

He rolled his eyes. "You are the one with a problem today. An issue. I'm just helping you out."

"I see," I nodded. He stood up suggesting that we walk, so we strolled the shoreline.

It was an awkward silence for a moment, so I decided to break it. "So... you turn into a dog."

"A wolf," he corrected, defensively.

"Whatever, it's still a dog."

Jacob snorted a laugh. "Whatever suits you, I guess."

"Can you imagine the irony in that? We wanted a puppy all throughout our childhood, and mom never let us to have a dog... and then you turn out to be a giant German Sheppard."

He paused in his step, his face playfully indignant. "Dude, that's not cool."

"Do you not like German Sheppard?" I asked. "How about a poodle?"

He was shaking his head at me. "Don't hate. Just because you don't change into something awesome, doesn't mean you have to hate on us."

"I'm glad I don't change into anything," I sniffed.

"You do realize that it's a gene." He seemed to wait and watch me process his sentence.

When I didn't answer, he continued. "Which means you do have the same wolf gene, too. Or at least carry it. We have it on both sides of the family. Dad's Ephraim's descendant, and Mom was an Ateara."

My eyes narrowed as I mulled this over. Carrier. Both sides.

"I'd hate to admit this, but… Logically, you are a good choice for Paul. We seem to be drawn to the best partners to breed stronger wolves for the next generation. Your children would definitely phase if you chose to live near vampires. Or if they choose to live near you rather."

"My children?" I covered my face in my hands, completely overwhelmed by the information. Children?

"Sorry. I know this is a lot to process."

"We just… got together. I can barely call him my boyfriend. I haven't gone as far as thinking about children." I groaned into my palms.

He was still able to hear me anyway. "Can you imagine having kids with anyone else?"

At that moment, I thought about that. A future with another man, but somehow my mind couldn't go in that direction. All roads led to Paul. Having children with anyone but Paul seemed unfathomable. But why? I hardly knew him. How could I be this sure about something so far from now?

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Jacob said.

I shook my head, and decided to change the subject. "Did Mom know?"

He nodded. "Dad said she hoped that I wouldn't become one." He shrugged indifferently. "Oh, well."

I shook my head again. "They knew after all this time."

"It's a tribe secret, Raych. The only reason why you got the story was because he imprinted on you. Embry's mom's ready to kick him out of the house because of his frequent absences, but he can't help it. But because of the tribe's gag order, he can't exactly tell her what he's up to. So he's just shit out of luck."

I wasn't quite sure that knowing the secret was such a privilege. "How am I going to keep this from Becky?"

I felt my brother's hand on my shoulder. "It won't be easy at first, but it will with time."

I turned to look at him. "I can't believe how you've grown up, Jake."

"Yes, I know. I'm tall."

"That wasn't what I was talking about."

He nudged me again. "Thanks, sis. That was sweet."

"Sure, sure," I said, imitating his favorite answer.

"Hey, that's my line."

"It's a good line," I teased.

"It's the best, sure, sure."

"You've known, haven't you? About Paul. And the imprinting. For a while, right?"

"Yeah. I've known," he admitted. "I knew before you knew what the hell was happening."

I was stunned. "So did you… know before you got here? Coming from Canada or wherever you were?"

"Uh… not really. I mean I knew something was up, like they were hiding stuff from me. When I got into town I could hear their thoughts and it felt like they were being careful with them. I just figured it was about Bells. Not you."

"Oh." I gulped. "So when did you find out?"

"After I left the wedding. They were trying to calm me down from wanting to kill that bloodsucker when Paul's mind slipped. It was a bit unsettling, and a little annoying for me to see through his head."

I blushed, my cheeks flaming hot. Luckily nothing had happened but a kiss by the wedding.

"I was so angry that night that I picked a fight with him. I know now that my anger was misdirected. It was for that stupid leech she married. But the annoying thing was that Paul didn't care to brawl. That isn't like him. Not like him at all. He'd be the first to fight. Always. That's how I knew he was definitely sprung on you." I felt my brother's eyes on me for a moment, though I couldn't meet them with my own. "In retrospect, it was good though. It was something to keep my mind off of… her."

"Well, that's good then," I barely voiced. But my cheeks and ears grew hotter, knowing Paul had phased today, right after we'd just… "God, as if things weren't awkward enough."

"You're telling me. I hate that the pack shares a mind. It was really annoying before. But now…"

"It's disturbing," I filled in.

"Very," he admitted. "Earlier, I swear, I could've killed him."

I was sure my burning cheeks were hotter than any shape-shifting wolf-boy, yet through my embarrassment, I couldn't bear the thought of my brother hurting Paul, or vice versa. "Jacob—"

"Don't worry, I didn't hurt him," he answered, curtly.

"Good."

"Doesn't change the fact that I wanted to, though." The last statement was grumbled under his breath, but I heard it anyway.

"Well, thanks... for not hurting him."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure." He stood up, reaching a hand out to me. "Come on, big sister. Let's go get some dinner."

I took the hand he offered, and managed to squish himself into my Corolla before we headed to town for a burger. He told me about his life away from home over burgers, fries, and shakes. How he'd completely given himself over to his animalistic side... sleeping when he was tired, hunting when he was hungry, running. Just existing. It was so strange to hear about it... that my brother had survived in the wilderness for close to two months. That he stayed a wolf all that time.

But I couldn't get him to open up about Bella, or what happened at the wedding. His jaw would clench, and a trembling would begin, and then he'd beg me to stop prying, so I did. He warned that he'd be in danger of phasing if he thought about it, and that was enough to keep me from saying anymore. We left and headed home soon after.

My heart raced as I turned onto our road. Would he be there? Jacob's eyes shot to me once my heart rate kicked up, and I cursed the stupid wolf senses. I was split in half as I drove up to the house. One part of me hoped that he wasn't there... still upset about the whole situation. The other part of me was full of too much hope... an expectation that he would be there for me, waiting.

And I was right.

There, on our porch steps, he sat, hunched over, his elbows on his knees, his head down. It lifted as we drove up. He stood up slowly as I put the car in park. Like earlier, he seemed smaller once again, despite his overall burliness. Clearly he was a guy who knew he was at fault.

He hesitated before greeting me with a shaky hello, his voice uncharacteristically meek. He stepped down from the porch so he was at the same level as I was.

"Hey," I said, half a cough. I was barely able to look at him in the face, but I felt his eyes on me when I wasn't. When I did look up his eyes shifted to the side. We played switch off like this for a moment.

"Well this is awkward," Jacob sighed, slicing through the uneasy silence. "I think I'm gonna go inside at watch some TV." He breezed by me and Paul, shutting the door behind him.

I turned back to Paul, his weight shifting between his feet. His mouth opened several times, but nothing came out. After several failed attempts, he finally said "Look, Raych, I..." But his voice trailed.

I was at a loss for words myself. I wasn't sure what to say back, though the angry part of me didn't want to say anything at all. I stared back at him, unsure of what to think. Was he really still the same person to me? Did he genuinely love me, imprinting aside? Was he playing me for a fool as he used his knowledge of my brother's whereabouts to his advantage?

He was the first to speak, his tone apologetic. "Look, I understand. I didn't really go about this the way I should have."

"No, you didn't," I agreed.

His eyes grew glassy, and I immediately regretted my retort.

"Okay, I deserve that," he acquiesced, his voice strong, though his eyes were opposite. "Whatever's on your mind, I'm sure we can talk it out. You can tell me what bothers you about all this. We can work this all out."

I stood for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. What should I tell him first? Do I even tell him anything. "I just feel like you..."

"Go on," he said, leaning against the porch rail. "Tell me."

"You knew where Jake was all this time, and I feel like you used that to your advantage. To get close to me. To make me feel better about his disappearance."

He shook his head adamantly. "I know it may seem that way, but it's not true."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"It's not. I didn't use anything. I just wanted to be there for you."

His eyes were searching my face, but I couldn't hold his gaze as I fought the tears that threatened to fall in this confrontation.

He gulped and then said, "I really don't know how to prove it to you. If you don't believe me, there's not more I can say." His head tilted, his chocolate eyes pleading. "I just wish you would."

I looked away from him, my mouth scrunched into a scowl.

"And this whole... imprinting thing."

"Yeah?" he asked, his face full of worry, like he was dreading what I was going to say next.

I took another sharp inhale, mystified by his reaction to me. How could he read me so easily? "I just don't know if it's me you really love... or if it's just the wolf thing that makes you..."

His eyes were expectant. "Makes me..."

"Obligated to feel this way."

His eyebrows rose towards his hairline, his eyes growing wide with hurt and shock. "Rachel—"

"Well?"

"It's not like that." I could see the tears forming in his eyes and I had to redirect my daze to the front door.

"You mean to tell me you're not under some werewolf spell you just can't shake?"

"It's not a spell," he grumbled, agitated, before he took a calming breath. "Imprinting may allow me to see you more clearly, but I _love _you," his tone was softer this time. "I always have. Imprinting or not."

Always loved me? "How could that be true? You were a kid the last time I saw you."

He shook his head. "That doesn't mean I couldn't have feelings for you. I always have. I told you this morning. I never stopped thinking about you."

I shook my head in defiance. "I think…" I took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. How to say it. Do I make this a big deal? Throw a tantrum? Lose my temper? Or, from a soft spot in my heart that seems to want to take over, should I give him some respect? "I think I need some time," I whispered.

I tried to sidestep him, but he moved to stop me. "Rachel—"

"Paul, please."

He scrutinized me for a moment, blinking back the tears he'd been trying to fight, though one had already fallen down the side of his face in a straight line. God, I wanted to wipe it away. "Okay," he managed to choke out as he cleared his throat. "But before you do." I watched as he reached in his pocket, and pressed a CD case into my hand.

I lifted the clear case to view, a shiny silver disk marked _To Rachel, Love Paul_. "You had time to make a mix?"

He shook his head. "It's just one song. But it definitely explains how I feel."

My mouth opened to protest, but he cut me off before I could speak.

"Please, listen to it. For me," he breathed, his chocolate eyes boring into mine. They were just as pleading as his voice. "Before you go to sleep, and think on it before you make any… decisions." I could hear a catch in the lilt of his voice.

I could feel my heart long for him, and I fought the instinct to want to soothe him, the instinct that I felt to my bones. He was the one at fault, yet I was the one who wanted to comfort him.

"Bye, Raych." I grew tense as he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, his warm lips pressing against my skin.

My eyes shut at the soft contact, and I cursed silently as I felt a tear squeeze out the side of my right eye. I made a move to look like I had an itch on the side of my face, when really my scratching motion was meant to wipe the treacherous tear away.

He walked away slowly, reluctance the motion of his saunter. Part of me was surprised at how willingly he let me have my time, how he wasn't trying to stay here and argue with me further, make me see what he was seeing. It seemed like something he would do.

But as I looked at the disk in my hand, I realized he found a way to do it, but still give me the time to think about him.

I took a deep breath before I walked into the house, forcing myself from the urge to look back at him, as I felt his eyes on me, figuring he probably stopped to turn to see if I made it into the house all right.

I did all I could... change into pajamas, wash my face, brush my teeth—all in avoidance of staring at the CD, which I'd tried to hide under my purse on the coffee table. But in the end, I caved, and slid it into the stereo, turning it down only low enough that I could hear.

From the first few notes, I recognized the song, yet it had been so long since I'd heard it, that I had to hear it through to recall the lyrics:

_I just don't understand  
Why you're running from a good man baby  
Why you wanna turn your back on love  
Why you've already given up  
See I know you've been hurt before  
But I swear I'll give you so much more  
I swear I'll never let you down  
Cause I swear it's you that I adore  
And I can't help myself babe  
Cause I think about you constantly  
and my heart gets no rest over you_

I knew the song anywhere. _What a loser,_ I thought to myself about him. To use a song from my favorite boyband in the world was sneaky.

_You can call me selfish  
But all I want is your love  
You can call me hopeless  
Cause I'm hopelessly in love  
You can call me unperfect  
But who's perfect?  
Tell me what do I gotta do  
To prove that I'm the only one for you  
What's wrong with being selfish?_

But as I listened to it more, my stomach churned, my heart skipped a beat, and tears formed in my eyes, rolling in streams down my cheeks.

_I'll be taking up your time  
Until the day I make you realize  
That for you there could be no one else  
I just gotta have you for myself  
Baby I would take good care of you  
No matter what it is you're going through  
I'll be there for you when you're in need  
Baby believe in me  
If love was a crime Then punish me  
I would die for you  
Cause I don't want to live without you, Oh what can I do?_

It was like he'd written this all himself. It was exactly Paul.

_Why do you keep us apart  
Why won't you give up your heart  
You know that we're meant to be together  
Why do you push me away  
All that I want is to give you love  
Forever and ever and ever and ever_

I shut my eyes, and I could still see his chocolate irises staring back at me, his scorching, smooth flesh against mine, his spicy scent filling my nose. Even after all the doubt and questions in my mind, he was still my weakness, my source of gravity.

My hand was resting at my heart, my chest rising and falling, my breath heavy with confusion and heartbreak. I was completely torn.

Turning on my stomach, I sobbed into my pillow. I surrendered to sleep longing for him, craving for his proximity, his touch. The sound of his voice even.

The feeling of yearning for him was so strong that it surprised me when I woke up with a new determination to defy him and all that I felt.

I rushed out of the door after taking a quick shower and grabbing a glass of juice and a bagel, kissing my father on the cheek but avoiding his questions in my haste. There was somewhere I needed to go.

It was something I had to prove to myself.

I didn't need Paul with me to see her. Or at least I needed to know that. I needed to know I didn't need anyone with me to face her.

As I started my car, I thought that if I could prove this to myself, I could prove that I didn't need Paul at all. That I had control over my own will, my own wants and needs, and I wouldn't fall a slave to the wolf's spell that imprinting would give me.

The road curved, and I trained my eyes forward, trying not to recall the last time I was at that very spot, my flat tire bringing me to the fate of needing Paul's assistance.

I had been here not even a week or so ago, yet I still felt the anxiety as I approached. A knot in my stomach, a lump in my throat. Grief and loss replaced the determination and defiance that pushed me to drive over here. Shaky hands as I put the car in park. Trembling limbs as I stepped out of the car and past the brush of the cemetery.

_You can do this,_ I told myself. _You can do this by yourself._ My heart raced as I walked towards her headstone anyway.

I stood proudly, my two feet at the foot of her gravesite._ See_, I told myself, you could do this. _And you did._

I greeted her silently, said a prayer as I bowed my head.

But the sorrow and grief was still like new; I couldn't help but shed a few tears, wiping them away with the back of my hand.

I walked forward, my knees and ankles trembling, and touched the cold, smooth surface of her headstone. "You knew," I whispered to her. To the wind. To nothing. "You knew what would happen to Jake." But could I really hold it against her? I knew not to. She was gone long before he'd made that transition. And according to Jake she'd hoped he wouldn't suffer the same fate as her grandfather.

Kneeling down to trace the engraved letters of her name with my fingers, I pictured her face. I could imagine her dark hair in a long braid, her large coffee eyes bright, her smile so lovely. She had so much wisdom, so much great advice. I wiped another tear away, longing for her wisdom now. "I miss you," I mumbled under my breath. "I miss you so much. And I need you now more than ever."

I thought about my disappointment in my father and brother, my confusion over Paul. What I would give to have her thoughts on this all. My brother's phasing. Advice on my relationship with Paul. "Times like this, I need you."

The wind blew then, and I snapped my jacket shut, my eyes roaming the floor beneath the headstone. Yellow roses stood in a small arrangement at the foot of it again. But they weren't the same from last week that Paul had left. That arrangement sat on the other side, the flowers wilted. This one was fresh. New. Lively.

And suddenly it was years earlier, at my mother's funeral again, sitting in the house, my mind far away. People mingling with finger sandwiches and sodas in hand, offering their condolences. I noticed no one. My feelings numb to the world.

A young, russet-skinned hand had pressed a yellow rose into my palm—one whose color was identical to the one at the foot of my mother's grave in present day. But in this memory from years ago, it was the little boy that had given me a yellow rose, a suppressed memory that had surfaced when I was in the car with Paul the other week for no apparent reason.

But this time, I remembered it with even sharper clarity. My mind recalled a sweet scent of artificial grape. The child was chewing grape flavored gum.

"Come on, son," someone had called after him. "Let's go and let Miss Rachel alone."

"Please. Take it," the boy had begged.

"All right, kid," his father had called. "Let's go."

The small hand had pressed the flower into my hand, squeezing my fingers around it with his. "Please. It's for you... it was my mom's favorite."

I had looked down at his hands on mine. "Thanks," I breathed, without another thought.

"Paul, come on now."

In the present time, a breath left me that I didn't realize I was holding, as I recalled the child's name again. _Paul._

"I'll be right there," he had called back to his dad. He turned to me with a bright, encouraging smile, though the rest of his face was still blurry in my mind. "Everything will be fine. I promise," he had whispered, before a felt a small peck on my cheek, and then he was gone and out the door with his dad.

I know I had never looked up when his father called him, but I didn't need the visual confirmation to know that it was him... yellow roses, grape flavored gum.

And in that moment, where I was able to recollect the boy as he gave me an encouraging smile—as if to let me know that things will be okay, that eventually, everything will be all right— I realized something significant.

Paul had always been there to give me exactly what I needed, whether I was aware of it or not. Whether he'd imprinted on me or on his free will.

He was there for me years ago when I first lost my mother. He was there for me to face that loss as a young woman. He was there for me again when I thought I'd lost my brother.

And there would be no other choice for me.

_He_ was the only choice.

I had proven that I didn't need him, that I was perfectly capable of facing my fears, by facing my mother's grave along. By facing her loss without the need of a rock to lean on.

Yet that didn't kill the want to be with him. The desire to have him beside me. What he had told me last night was the truth. I could deny it no longer.

Paul was it for me.

I wasn't aware of my actions after that. It was all a blur. The next moment I was booking it to my car. My key in the ignition. Foot on the gas pedal. Heart racing. Adrenaline pumping through my veins.

But why, would one ask, was I so anxious? So jumpy?

The reason was so simple.

Because, for the first time ever, _I_ was the one going to find my fate. I was coming home.

_I_ was going to find Paul.

* * *

**Endnotes: **

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Hope you enjoyed it! I am on my way to find more time to write... My goal is to complete and post V&P's Epi during the release of the 4th twilight film, and HLW's Chapter 9 soon after.


	9. Chapter 9: Acceptance

I apologize for taking so long with this one. My job just takes up a lot of my time and energy, and this hobby has been pushed to the sidelines. Plus, after finding out my first fic had been plagiarized, I also wrote the final chapter for _Vanity and Patience, my Rosalie and Emmett story. To make up for the lag, this chapter is about 50% longer than normal._

Again, thanks to those of you who helped me report the plagiarism.

Thanks to my beta, LauraWeasely, aka ElvenIvy.

Playlist:

Sara Bariellis – Breathe Again

Howie Day – Collide

Tevin Campbell – I'm Ready

Sleeping at Last – Turning Page

Counting Crows – Color Blind

**__****To better adhere to the Terms of Service at FanFiction(dot)net, I am doing a revisions on my chapters here, and keeping them less explicit. They will now be rightfully fitting into the M-rated category (rather than MA). Please go to my profile and read my story on Twilighted or LiveJournal for the full explicit version.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Acceptance**

* * *

As I drove, a familiar song filled the car: _Ordinary People_, by John Legend. The music took me back to the car ride on the way home from the coffee shop with Paul—how we sang along and laughed. How I felt like a lost puzzle piece that finally found the perfect fit.

My heart fluttered, my stomach churned with butterflies. My foot was on the gas with the weight of lead.

I smiled when I saw his Mustang parked in front of his house, my heartbeat kicking into overdrive.

As I climbed out of the car and made my way to the front door, I was ready to run into his arms, ready to come crashing into him. I pictured the momentum making him fall back, with me on top of him. My lips turned up at the corners at that image. I braced myself as the door opened, only to be let down when Hank answered. "Hey, there, Rachel. Can I help you with anything?"

"Oh, Hi. I was just... looking for Paul."

"So sorry. He's not home."

My heart sank at his words. "Oh." The disappointment in my voice was palpable.

"Didn't come home last night."

"Oh?" Guilt formed into a bubble in my throat. Had I caused him to stay away? Go somewhere? Leave?

"Is everything okay?" Hank asked. " You seem a little frazzled."

I shook my head, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm myself. Some part of me knew not to alert his dad. "I just... needed to talk to him."

"You should try Sam's. He hangs out there a lot. Spends many nights with his friends. I'd have a problem with it if I didn't trust Sam implicitly."

"Thanks," I whispered.

"I'll let him know you stopped by. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear it."

I smiled a little bit at Hank's comment. "Thank you, sir."

He shook his head, waving his hand. "No. No sir. Just Hank, really."

"Thank you, Hank. I'll see you."

"See you soon."

I felt him watch me get into my car, shutting the door when I turned on the ignition.

As I drove past the Uley house, I felt completely awkward. I hadn't been to this house since the Sam-and-LeeLee days, which have been long gone. No cars were parked out that way. I didn't even bother ringing the doorbell as I got up to the porch. The house was so eerily quiet that I knew no one was home.

The rain came down hard as I drove home, disappointed that I hadn't found Paul. Knowing now what he was, he could be anywhere, and I didn't have the ability to track him down.

But something was nagging at me. Had I driven him away? The guilt strangled me, the feeling of coming tears stinging my eyes. Had I pushed him away too hard? Had I made such a horrible mistake? I was so foolishly righteous last night. About my doubt in his feelings. About his misuse of his knowledge about my brother and my mother. And I was wrong about it all. It was hard to justify, even to myself, that I deserved him.

The red of our humble home could be seen through the trees as I drove up the private road to the house. I sat in my car for a moment after putting it in park, right outside our house. Resting my head against the steering wheel, I tried to catch my breath. I wrestled with tears that longed to be free from my eyes. I saw his face as soon as (I) shut my eyes, remembered the rose he pressed into my hand as a child, and the soft kiss he'd placed on me just yesterday. And after all that I had the audacity to question him. Did I deserve him? Was I worthy of such a thing?

Suddenly, the car was just too small, too stuffy. I couldn't get enough air. I needed to breathe, but how? The rain came down hard, so hard that I couldn't roll down the windows. Perhaps I needed to get out of the car, but my arms weren't willing to open the door, and my legs weren't willing to help me out. Where the hell was Paul? What had I done?

My head flew up at the sound of the front door opening, my stomach lurching as I saw a bunch of the boys walk out of the house. It was Jared, Quil, Embry, Jake…. and Paul. All were in the same usual uniform of shorts and sneakers. My stomach flipped, heart thrown into a raging beat within my ribcage.

Like a magnet, I was drawn to him instantly.

They were headed out, their feet taking them in the direction of the woods. His head turned automatically to the direction of my car. Even through the wavy streams of water that distorted my view through the car window, Paul seemed to catch my eyes with his. His steps faltered, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. I was too far to see his expression, the stupid water making it too blurry. He turned away anyway, seeming to force himself to do so, still heading for the forest with the others. They were headed somewhere and fast.

My limbs quickly found purpose. Hastily, I fumbled for the latch of my car door before stepping out clumsily, walking towards them.

"Wait," I called out. Frustrated at our audience, I walked forward, pulling my jacket closer around myself as if it would make me invisible.

"Hey, Rachel," a few of them greeted, but I was far from caring who they were. They still walked, but they nodded their acknowledgement of me, except for Paul.

His head turned slowly at the sound of my voice, his dark eyes meeting mine over his shoulder, though he kept his pace with the others. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes full of hope, confusion, and unremarkable restraint.

I had none. No restraint what so ever. "Paul," I called again, my face burning as I felt all the boys' eyes on me. I tried my best not to notice them—to ignore their presence, and concentrate on the beautiful man who was quickly becoming my reason to be. "Please wait."

He'd stopped walking at the sound of his name. His body turned toward me as I pleaded him to wait. His brows were now raised in surprise.

I realized that I was at a jog now, cursing all their long legs, their impossibly lengthy gaits. He looked ready to take a step in my direction, leaning the slightest bit toward me, but his foot wavered. The deep rise and fall of both his chest and shoulders told me he was suddenly out of breath—nervous, that he was anxious.

I knew the feeling, my pounding heart causing my limbs to tremble. My eyes stung so bad that I blinked several times. I thanked my lucky stars as I got closer to him that the rain hid my tears, the cold drops of water streaming down my face.

"What is it?" he asked in a gentle tone when I stopped about a foot from where he stood. He'd taken only one step forward before I reached him.

"I—" I began, my lips trembling, my nerves taking control of my limbs and my chattering teeth. My face was hot with blush, and I know I was completely red. This wasn't the reunion I saw in my head. The boys still stood quietly around us, their eyes burning holes into me from every direction.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern, leaning down to check my face, without touching me. "Did something happen?"

I shook my head stupidly. "I'm fine," I assured him in a shaky breath, my nerves getting the best of me. I couldn't stop my fingers from trembling. I took a deep, unsteady breath, meeting his expectant chocolate eyes. "I was wrong," I whispered.

His thick brows scrunched just a tiny bit in confusion.

"I was wrong… about you. About us," I admitted under my breath. "I was so wrong." My shaky hands reached for his arms, but before I knew it, I was enveloped in them. I was in his arms.

His body was like a warm, steady, living, cushioned wall against my own—like I'd just crashed onto my bed at home after a long day. Because that's what he was—home.

Paul was my home.

A chuckle left him, muffled into my hair. It was a surprised sound—a relieved, happy sound. His warm breath blew into my tresses and heated my scalp.

Relief took over me as well. I immediately relaxed into his embrace, my trembling limbs finding shelter in it. Taking in his scent, I buried my nose into his neck. "I'm so sorry," I sobbed, into the warm skin of his neck, feeling like an idiot. And suddenly, in his arms, I found the air that I needed—the air I couldn't get in my car.

Suddenly, I could breathe again.

"Shhh," he hushed. "It's okay." His voice was gruff, like he himself was crying.

I pulled away, unable to resist catching such a thing.

The rain on his face didn't hide the red in his eyes, or the decisive tears that welled in them. He smiled through them anyway, his lips curling up slowly. In his smile I saw the child that I once knew, surrounded by the man that I had come to know… come to love.

Remembering our audience, I looked to my left and then to my right, surprised to find that the guys had scattered. We were left alone in my yard.

"They're gone," he mumbled, his hands cupping my face and pulling me towards his. His lips brushed gently against mine, before pulling away to look at me. "I'm so sorry, too."

I shook my head vigorously as I grabbed both sides of his head. This time I pulled into him myself and forced my mouth onto his searing lips, prying them apart. It was acute with pain how much I wanted to really kiss him, to feel his mouth move against mine.

His lips stirred slowly at first, tense with shock before relaxing and moving enthusiastically against my own. The grip on my face became firm, one hand snaking into my hair, his fingertips pushing my head towards him.

The taste of his mouth was sweet, mixed with the salt of both of our tears and the cold, flavorless rain. The heat of his body calmed my shivers, the strength of his arms soothing my nerves.

Time was not enough before the kiss ended, but with remarkable self-control, he was able to pull away. As he touched his forehead to mine, he cursed in a whisper.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I have patrol duty all day."

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. He was going to be a wolf for the day, protecting us from the dangers of those bloodsucking demons. No matter how much I would like to argue that his place was with me at such a vulnerable time, I realized his roll in our protection was important.

I felt his eyes on me as I pondered this. "How about you come with me to lunch? We're about to eat a large feast at Emily's before we start patrolling. Once the sunlight goes away though, I'm out."

I tried not to recoil at the name, hesitating. "I don't know."

"They'll all be there," he offered. "Your brother, Leah. Everyone."

The idea that I could spend a few moments more with him was too tempting to refuse, especially with my brother and Leah there to soften the possible awkwardness of being at Emily's house. I nodded, and before you knew it I was in my car, with Paul behind the steering wheel, over to Leah's cousin's house.

Emily answered the door. "Rachel," she nearly exclaimed, her arms coming around me in a warm hug. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Thanks," I said, trying not to cringe. However, I knew I had stiffened in her arms anyway, and my eyes immediately found Leah sitting on the steps that lead upstairs with a plate of food in her lap. Jake and Seth were positioned on the couch next to Quil, who was spoon-feeding a young toddler some pasta.

"No, really," Emily said, her cheery voice bringing my attention back to her. "We've all been eager to truly welcome you. It's been so exciting to know Paul found his happiness. And we get another sister in the process. Looks like Paul finally got it right this time. We've all been worried he'd scared you off for good."

My head drew back at her comment. Had he been talking about me to Emily?

I suddenly felt a large hand on my arm. "Yes, Emily, she's here. Now let's not bombard her with anything. I don't want to overwhelm her any more than I already have."

"Okay, all right." She lifter her hands up as if to surrender. "Very true," she said. She turned to her kitchen, grabbed a plate and shoved it into my hands. "Come and eat. We've got home made baked ziti. And Kim brought three buckets of KFC."

I looked at the large spread along her kitchen counter and the center of her dining table: garlic Texas toast, mashed potatoes, dirty rice, and more. "Wow," I breathed. "That's a lot of food."

Emily smiled as she shook her head. "You don't know how these boys eat. I suggest you get your helping before they go for more."

As I took a substantial helping, Paul motioned for me to sit with him at the table. I plopped down on the stairs next to Leah instead.

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have to sit with me, you know."

I shrugged. "I know."

"What's a matter? You don't want to sit by your boyfriend."

"Shut up," I grumbled, but my eyes flitted toward him anyway, as he playfully grabbed a chicken wing from Jared's plate. He was at the table with Jared, Kim, Embry, Sam, and Emily.

"You can sit with them, too. You're… a part of their crew now."

"So are you," I replied.

Chewing on a drumstick, she shrugged this time.

Feeling his eyes on me, I looked over at Paul, who watched me from his seat as he hovered his pasta and chicken.

I waved at him and smiled. He pointed to a chair when Embry got up from the table, but I shook my head at him and pointed my thumb up at Leah.

"Really, you don't have to sit by me," she insisted.

"For the last time, I want to."

She chuckled. "Just checking."

We made small talk as we finished our lunch, my eyes meeting Paul's every so often.

Distracted momentarily, I watched as Quil labored over the little girl. "Who's Quil babysitting?"

"Oh that's Claire, Emily's niece."

"Oh? She watching Claire today?"

I felt Quil and Jake's eyes snake over to me. I didn't have to check that Paul had tuned in as well. What was the big deal?

With an uncomfortable smile, Leah whispered, "It's a long story. Tell you 'bout it later."

"Um… okay?"

She shook her head as if to tell me to drop it, so I did.

It was strange to be around the family, and I was still getting used to the fact that they referred to themselves as "brothers and sisters," as if they shared the same mother and father. But I saw the family structure there—the love that hey had for one another, even though not every member got along with one another. I saw it in their interaction with one another—their banter, their comfort with each other. It was unconditional love for a sibling.

It was too soon until his shift was up, and he offered to take me home. "I'll walk you out, but wait a moment. I need to go talk to Sam."

He came back a few moments later, and drove my car to my house.

"What'd you talk to Sam about?"

He hesitated, seeming to blush.

"Oh sorry. Pack business, right? I won't ask."

"No, that's not it."

I looked at his profile as he approached our street, his eyes trained on the road.

"I asked for the day off tomorrow. I've got patrol duty all day today. I wanted to make sure I was free."

I nodded silently. Was the request for me?

We both stepped out of my car and made way to my house in silence.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked, as we strolled to my doorstep.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "What _are _we doing tomorrow night?" I grinned sheepishly.

He beamed brightly. "I still haven't taken you on a _real_ date. At least by your standards."

I cocked an eyebrow. "That's true." The thought brought me back a couple of weeks when he'd taken me to that cute coffee shop near Port Angeles. "You do listen, don't you?" I couldn't hide how impressed I was.

"I do. So let me take you out tomorrow night? A real first date."

"Does that mean I have to wait for you all day?"

He shook his head. "I didn't necessarily mean that. I'll see you during the day, too."

"I will?"

"Sure, if you want. We can hang out. I know I'd love it."

I grin stretched across my face. "I'd love that."

Anticipation filled the space between us as he leaned in slowly. His goodbye kiss was gentle right up until the end, where his lips kept hold on my lower lip for a second, sucking lightly. Touching his forehead to mine, he whispered, "I did a stupid thing and asked to patrol today. It was a better use of my time than sitting around and waiting for you—doing something productive and what not."

"You don't have to explain."

"But I do. I had no idea when you'd be okay with this all."

"I'm okay with it," I assured him.

"You can be honest, you know. You hate that I have to go. I know I do."

"I understand that your role is important to the protection of our people." I wasn't lying. Though I wished he could stay, I did understand.

"Be honest."

Sighing, I admitted it. "Fine. I wish you could stay."

His eyes shut for a moment and then opened. "I'll be at your house tomorrow at 10am. We can hang till about 1 o'clock, and then I can be back around six to take you out."

I nodded, my grin stretching wider.

After whispering goodbye to one another, I closed the door behind me, waving at him from the window until he disappeared into the forest. That grin on my face remained.

That night, as I lay out on my inflatable bed, I finally was able to get a good night's rest.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his chocolate and toffee eyes tight in nervous concern. "We can do this another time."

It was the next day, at about ten thirty in the morning, deep in the mossy forestry of La Push. We stood, surrounded by tall, ancient spruces, the Olympic forest floor of spongy green moss beneath our feet. Light filtered through the branches of the majestic evergreens, casting strange, but lovely shadows across his already attractive face.

"No, I'm fine," I assured him in a mutter. Paul stood in front of me, his hands on my shoulders in a strong, but comfortable grip. "I want to do this," I continued to insist.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Because we can save this for another day. When I said I'll hang with you during the day I didn't really mean—"

I shook my head. "No. I want to see this. I need to... know everything. See everything."

"Okay," he said. He slipped his shoes off and handed them to me before stepping out of his shorts.

"It's considerably different this time, being in the know and all." I placed his shoes at my feet as he folded his shorts and held them out them to me with a sheepish grin.

"True," he muttered, giving me a flirtatious wink.

The side of my lip curled up at my naked boyfriend, though my eyes stayed focus on just his face. I couldn't get over the fact that he went commando in his shorts once in a while, but I understood that carrying too many garments in your mouth as a wolf wouldn't be ideal when trying to protect the townsfolk from vampires.

I shoved his shorts and shoes into my backpack, in a compartment separate from the food I'd packed earlier. Slinging one handle over my shoulder, I stood up with curious eyes.

I watched with both appreciation, and anxious curiosity as his unbelievable, naked form walked away from me, yards into the meadow. "Ready?" he called out, raising his hand in air, forming a thumbs-up.

I gulped, feeling my heart begin to race. "Ready," I called back, mimicking his raised thumbs-up.

Turning away from me, his breath became short, and strong. His chest heaving, I could see his form visibly tremble, and he threw himself forward. As a blast of silvery fur replaced his glorious body, I couldn't help but cover my mouth, my heart beating wildly, my fingers trembling over my lips.

Slowly, the over-sized canine turned my direction, his breath slowing down. The eyes met mine, and I gulped once again, waiting for the instinct to flee.

This time I didn't feel like fleeing, though my mind still hadn't accepted this large animal and Paul to be one and the same.

He made no effort to come near me. The wolf sat on his haunches, his tail wagging slowly. His face almost looked nervous, his head tilting to one side as he regarded me.

I searched in this animal's face for anything I could recognize of the man I loved. But it wasn't until I really, truly looked at his eyes, the chocolate color that they were, liquid with great depth and the very same toffee colored specks that I've come to adore.

The recognition brought my feet to take steps forward. His tail wagged again.

"H-hi," I said again, feeling completely stupid. Could he understand me? Did he know how to communicate with me in this form?

The animal answered with a nod, and an exhale as if to say hello back, but his eyes were still careful.

I walked forward some more, without any movement from the wolf before me. I appreciated that. He was letting me do this in my own time. My eyes took in the large frame of the wolf, seeming to have the same broad shoulders as Paul. The fur on his body was all sorts of colors as you got closer, with all shades of grey, ranging from almost white, to a charcoal black. Some even shined like silver.

My shaky hand reached out to his muzzle, fingers trembling. I wasn't sure what to expect—thinking maybe since he was such a large wolf that the fur would be close to the spines of a porcupine. I was pleasantly mistaken, the fur soft rather than course. It was nothing close to a porcupine's spines. Boy, was I wrong.

"Hi," I repeated, thinking it was the only thing I could say to him.

I found the fur beneath his jaw surprisingly soft, growing longer the further you went away from his face. He leaned into my hand, with an open mouth, tongue hanging out, like he was smiling.

Could the wolf understand me? Clearing my throat, I tried again. "Hello," I breathed.

Amazingly enough, the large canine seemed to nod hello back. My hand continued to pet him, my nails raking through his soft tufts of fur. His breath came out in short, quick pants, much like a happy dog.

A giggle escaped from my mouth at his expression. "You're so sweet."

He leaned into my hands, his eyes closing. It reminded me of scratching a dog in a place he enjoyed. As if to illustrate my thought further, as my fingers found a certain spot on his neck, one of his hind legs started to twitch rhythmically against the forest floor. I laughed in response. He turned his head in a motion to encourage my scratching in a different direction.

"I can't believe I was scared of you."

The wolf made a noise, much like a cross between a chuckle and as scoff, yet still a dog-like sound. The noise, however, was all Paul. That was the moment that I realized I couldn't just refer to the wolf as "the wolf."

He was Paul.

He suddenly phased back, pulling is shorts back on and sitting on the grass.

"You didn't have to phase so quickly."

With a soft peck on my lips, he said "I don't want to overwhelm you. Can't make the same mistake twice."

As I watched him slip his shorts back on, I said, "I won't be overwhelmed."

"I won't chance it," he retorted.

"Fine," I shrugged as he patted an area beside him in an invitation to sit.

"So tell me more about you… About this."

"What do you want to know?"

"From Leah and Jake I know about your sense of smell. It's almost akin to other canines. What else can you do? What sets you apart from everyone else?"

"I have quick reflexes. I run hella fast. Jump higher. I have great vision, and even better night vision."

"You're like a superhero."

He chuckled. "I guess. I mean, I'd like to think so. But sometimes I feel like I'm a different species all together. Normal body temperature is 108 degrees. My heart beats faster than the average human."

"Oh? I though that was because of me," I teased, with a playful pout on my lips.

He smiled. "It's definitely even faster around you."

An answering grin flashed on my face before I had a quick recollection. "So in your garage, when the sketchbook fell…"

He nodded his head admittedly. "Yeah, I caught it with the reflexes and speed. I didn't mean to show that all in front of you; it was just habit."

That made sense now. "Anything else?"

"I can hear things from miles away."

My face burned as I remembered calling his name out in the shower just two days ago. "So the other day… when you showed up at my door unexpectedly…"

His lip curled up on one side. "I'd just got off patrol duty, walking by your street on my way home. And… yeah. I heard you."

Feeling the heat even burning off of my ears, my face burned even hotter. I was still able to smirk, wondering if he was about to say something cocky. "Was it because you were expecting it after what happened at the beach?"

He shook his head sternly. "Absolutely not."

"Right," I teased him.

"No, really. Absolutely not. I hoped. I always hoped. But expect? No. I didn't expect anything from you, except maybe that you'd give in sooner or later. It felt like it was going to be later and later. You aren't exactly the normal imprinted."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

"Most give in much sooner. Much more easily. But not you. It was hard to get you to come around. You were the stubbornest of them."

"Most stubborn," I corrected him.

"Fine, most stubborn. Most of the tribe thought it served me right, being the most hot-headed and misbehaved member and all."

"Why am I not surprised about that superlative?"

He laughed in a scoff. "Nobody is."

Taking the book bag, I pulled out some sandwiches I'd made for this purpose. All were ham and cheese, with lettuce, tomato, and mayo. I worried he wasn't a vegetable kind of guy, but as he happily accepted, Paul seemed to like anything. I made four… one for me and three for him. As we ate he told me a bit more about wolves, and their enemy. How they use their huge teeth to shred those leeches to bits and then have to set them on fire to finish them off.

He'd told me what he knew of that kind—of vampires. Their cold skin; their immortality. How the Cullens "supposedly" differed from the rest in that they didn't prey on humans, but that most others do. The others that he and the other boys protected us from. I hadn't realized just how important a role the wolves played in the safety of all of us on this reservation. In this town.

As I began to look spooked he changed the subject, talking more about daily wolf life, but as he finished his last sandwich, I had one last question for him.

"God. Where the hell do you put it all?"

A perplexed expression flashed on his face. "What do you mean?"

I poked at his rock-hard abs with my finger. "You're like… zero percent body fat. But you eat like a pig."

He guffawed, throwing his head back. "I burn it off every day… during my run, when I'm leaping cliffs and making my way through the forest."

Nodding in understanding, I answered, "Makes sense." He was fueling his heightened abilities. "Physics."

"Yep."

Looking at my watch, I began to get up slowly, brushing off the leaves and dirt from my jeans. "I need to go home."

His hand grabbed my wrist so fast I didn't know what happened. "Why? What's the point? I'll be picking you up soon anyway."

"But I have to get ready. Gotta look good for our date."

He beamed at the thought, but shook himself out of it. "You already do."

Heat flared at my cheeks and ears. "I want to look better."

His eyes narrowed, his hand pulling me towards him. Our lips met for a second, and against my mouth he whispered, "Fine."

* * *

I'd spent about an hour obsessing about my outfit until I finally settled on a floral print sundress, though I know it was a bit too chilly to wear one. It looked amazing on me, despite the fact that I hardly ever felt amazing about how I looked. I even spent an extra thirty minutes putting a lovely wave into my hair with a curling iron, and an extra fifteen perfecting my make up, which included a smoky eye. I'd locked myself in the bathroom for nearly two hours to everyone's dismay in this house.

Finally, I decided on a pair of tan leather boots and a distressed dark denim jacket to complete the look, and keep me warm in the process. Straightening my outfit and scrutinizing myself in the mirror, I heard a knock on the door. I heard male voices. Paul was here. My brother and dad were home, and I realized I shouldn't make Paul wait. They weren't vocal about it, but I knew they weren't big fans of him either.

As I stepped into the living room, both Jake and my father's brows shot up to their hairlines.

But all I saw was Paul, in a leather jacket and jeans. His hand went straight to his chest, his palm over his heart. "Wow."

"Well—uh," my dad interrupted. "We'll—uh—we'll be just in the other room."

"Says who?" Jake said, his eyes trained on the television.

"Jacob," Dad reprimanded.

"Fine," Jacob groaned.

"Thank you, Billy. We won't be out too long."

"Better not be," he said as his finger pointed to Paul. "Two AM, you understand me?"

"Dad!"

Paul cleared his throat in apprehension, something I rarely saw in him. "Yes, sir."

My father's dark eyes darted towards me "Don't you 'Dad' me, young lady." He and Jake made their way to the room in the back. "Have fun, kids," he called behind him.

I thanked my dad before I turned back to Paul. "Sorry about that."

"Understood," he said with a wave of his hand. His dark eyes did another once over on me. "You look amazing."

I spun around playfully.

"Like really amazing." My spin came to a halt. He gently shoved a bouquet of daisies into my hand and breathed, "Hello."

"Aww, thank you."

After putting the flowers in water, he drove me to Port Angeles, where we ate at Bella Italia.

We conversed lightly over my Clam Linguine and his Caesar salad topped Quileute King Salmon and Porterhouse Pork Chop. I wasn't surprised by his large order, but I was amused that even his food choice took pride in our tribe. Even after his large order, he couldn't resist taking a few large bites of my pasta.

He gulped, the sound decisively loud. "Curious… So what happened?"

I furrowed my brows. "What do you mean?"

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

"What? About you?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, taking a sip of his soda. "Not that I'm complaining. I want you with me."

"I don't know. I went to visit my mother—"

His eyes lit up. "You did? By yourself?"

"Yes."

As he beamed, he placed a reassuring hand on mine. "See. I knew you could do it."

A smile worked its way onto my lips in response.

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Continue your story."

"Anyway, I went to see my mom and I saw you'd visited her again. And the yellow roses…"

"Yeah?"

"You gave me one once." I studied his expression for a hint of recollection. "Do you remember?"

He looked momentarily bewildered. "I did?"

I cleared my throat at the event. "Yes. At my mother's…"

"Oh… at your house. Yeah. I remember now."

"Yes."

"I know you said you've always had feelings for me. It was hard for me to believe you until I remembered..."

His dark eyes looked at me expectantly, waiting patiently for me to continue.

"You were always there for me, even when I wasn't aware of it. Even before all this imprinting business."

He shook his head and crinkled a brow. "Don't discredit imprinting."

"Anyway, I remembered. And that's when I knew."

"Knew what?"

"You were my only choice."

His mouth stretched from ear to ear to a smile full of adoration and gratitude.

"Speaking of, when exactly did you imprint on me, anyway?"

His smile went from grateful to calculating. "Guess."

"You want me to guess?"

His long fingers cut his porkchop. "It ain't that hard," he coaxed with a side-grin. "I'm pretty sure you knew when."

The thing was, I did. "On the beach that first day, when we caught eyes with each other?"

His hand formed a gun that shot at me. "Bingo."

"And then it was that instantaneous? I was then supposed to grovel at your feet and proclaim you my god?"

He laughed, his head throwing back. "Not at all." His eyes met mine in an intense stare. "Quite the opposite, actually. Well, _reverse_ is probably the best word, not opposite. Quite reverse. _I_ grovel at your feet. _I_ worship you."

My mouth pressed into a flat line. "Oh."

"Oh, huh? Does the phenomenon still have you questioning me? Or are you questioning the phenomenon all together?"

"It's just a lot to try to understand."

"It's pretty simple, really. You see the girl after you've phased, and you just know. Like Kim and Jared. He didn't know she was alive before he was a wolf, but he saw her that next time he went to school, and that was it. Wasn't quite the same with me. I'd known you before, and I knew you existed a little too much." His face seemed to flush as he said the last statement before he cleared his throat. "I've been in love with you for years, even when I was sticking gum in your hair. Imprinting just helped me become close to worthy of you." His eyes gazed at me for a small moment and then he said, "Though I don't think anyone could ever be."

My head shook in disagreement. "You have that backwards. You've been amazing for as long as I remember. I haven't been exactly the best to you as of late."

He chuckled. "You aren't the typical imprinted, I'll give you that. But you're no ordinary girl. I wouldn't expect any less."

"Okay, you need to stop."

He smirked. "What?"

"Your comments," I grumbled. "They make me uncomfortable."

"You're so unaware. It's sexy." He beamed. "I like that you're humble."

My cheeks burned, and I knew I was blushing hard. "Well, what's the typical imprinted like?" I asked, in an effort to change the subject.

"More accepting," he replied. "Less resistant. They usually accept the truth much easier… accept _him_ much easier."

"Oh."

His chocolate irises scrutinized me from across the table. "But you're not like most." He took a long sip of his Mountain Dew before saying, "There's no one like you."

As I sopped a piece of pasta and clam into the white wine sauce, I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious. You stuck to your guns and held out for a while. I was beginning to think it was hopeless—that there was no getting through to you. ou've been really tough to crack. I mean, come to think of it, there was only one other imprinted that resisted more than you."

"Really? Who?"

"Emily."

I scoffed at the name. "You mean she didn't just hop into Sam's arms?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. She was angry at him—and I mean like… furious angry. Leah was one of her best friends. She didn't want to be imprinted by Sam. She didn't want any of it."

"Really?" I thought of the way she beamed when he was around her. I recalled how yesterday I'd catch them as they'd sneak a kiss or a lingering glance at one another from across the room. "Doesn't look that way now."

He watched as the scoff on my face remained. "Well that's now. It wasn't the case in the beginning. She told him she wouldn't be with him, and he got so upset over it that he phased. He was standing way too close to her and… well…"

I recalled Emily's marred face, gasping as I realized the most obvious. "That's how she got the scars?"

"Yeah. It killed him that he hurt her like that. He wanted to kill himself for doing it. And before you knew it,_ she_ was the one comforting _him_. That's when she saw how much he loved her, and after that there was no other choice really. No one would love her more, and she knew she couldn't feel the same about someone else either. Not like she does with Sam."

I chewed on my food thoughtfully, but I guess a frown remained on my face somewhere.

"I know you're not really into her, but she's an amazing person, and a great friend. She's been like our big sister, taking us in when we couldn't tell anyone else about us. You'd like her if you let that go."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Let what go?"

"Your resentment of her and Sam. I know you want to be a good friend to Leah and I understand that. But I hope that one day you will see it was beyond their control, and that they're really happy." His eyes wandered unseeingly on his plate of food. "She's a good person."

I frowned. "It's not that easy." I felt a sudden hit of jealousy over his defending Emily, disturbed by how much she meant to him. I refocused my thoughts when I realized his eyes were still on me, watching me closely. "I feel wrong being happy for people when it's at the expense of one of _my_ best friends."

"Point taken," he said, looking as if he was going to throw in the towel on the Emily topic. "Next subject?"

"Yes, please," I said.

"Do we go back to you?" he teased.

"Something else, please," I chuckled. "How about you?"

"What do you want to know?"

"So my father told me you eventually grow old."

"He told you that?"

"Well considering the fact that you guys age fast and then slow down, I had a few questions."

"We do. When a wolf decides to stop phasing, he begins to age. It's one advantage we have over our enemies, who stay the way they are forever. We have the advantage of choosing to grow old with the one we love."

I suddenly got a flash in my head of my future, grey haired and looking out the window at our grandkids in the yard with Paul standing by my side. It was a nice thought.

As I leaned to the side to let the waiter fill my glass with water, Paul asked, "May I ask you something?"

His face was so serious as he asked. "Sure."

"Going back to that first day on the beach; the imprinting day."

"Okay."

"How was it for you? How did you feel?"

I winced, confused. "How did I feel?"

"When it happened… the imprinting."

"I'm not sure," I fibbed. "I'm not sure I remember."

Unconvinced, he actually put his utensils down and folded his arms across his chest, with an inquiring brow lifted upward.

"Fine." I took a deep breath to pace myself. "Granted, I didn't know who you were at that moment," I admitted.

"You didn't?"

"No, you weren't recognizable. I thought you were visiting from one of the other nearby tribes."

A smile stretched across his face. "Is that so?"

"I had no idea who you were at that very moment. I didn't find out 'til a little later when I asked Leah. I just knew what I felt… and I remember feeling like…"

Straining forward in anticipation of my answer, he prompted, "Like…"

"Like things would never be the same. That my life would change forever."

"Oh," he breathed.

"Why? Was that not the answer you were looking for?"

He looked at me, a hint of a smile on his face.

"All right then," I sighed. "There was a feeling. You were the only person there. The only person… for miles—" I cut myself off mid-explanation, feeling my cheeks burn with a flush that would've probably glowed red if it could. "Do you really want me to tell you all about this?"

He chuckled. "You don't have to, but I was curious about it. I know how it feels to imprint, and even before you I'd seen it through a few pack members' eyes. But I don't know how it feels on the other side. I just wanted to know." His eyes must've taken in my blush, because he followed up with, "But you don't have to if you don't want to. I mean, you can think about it this way: whatever you felt, I was feeling probably times ten."

"Okay." I paused, and took a long pull of my water.

Paul snickered as he chewed on a large piece of his porkchop.

Taking deep breath, I put down my utensils and leaned forward. "Okay, I felt like you were the only one in the universe. There was no one else. It felt like… like the world was there to kinda bring—"

"Bring us together," he said with me.

I took a breath of relief. He knew what I felt.

"I wasn't lying. I probably felt the same, only much stronger."

"So that magnetic, irresistible pull?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "The pull is there, too. It's definitely there." He pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he put his hand on mine. "Definitely there." He raked his fingers across the top of my hand and closed his hand into a fist.

His eyes locked with mine, my reflection on chocolate and toffee irises. I gulped again. He was right: the pull was definitely there. The tension between us was palpable. I wanted him right here, on this table, in front of the whole restaurant.

He remarkably was the first to break eye contact, clearing his throat and sitting back in his seat. "So, uh, you have a few choices tonight. We can go to a movie, or walk around. Or…we can go to my house."

There went a flip in my stomach. "Your house?"

"Well, my dad and Aunt Pam went to Tacoma for the next two days, so I've got the place to myself, and…"

I sat back in my chair, suddenly anxious. "Um…"

"I mean, we don't have to, if you wanted to take things slow, but just figured I'd mention… you know what? Nevermind."

"No, no, I—"

His eyes turned to me with hope, but I didn't want to seem like I was going to jump at the chance to sleep with him.

"One Tiramisu," the waiter said, placing a large plate of dessert in front of us.

"Thank you," I said, but Paul's eyes were still on me.

I waited until he cleared our dinner plates before continuing. "How about we play it by ear, and walk around first? Decide where to go from there?"

As he grabbed his spoon and reached for the tiramisu, he shrugged. "Sure."

Nodding to confirm our plan, I took a spoonful of the cream and espresso-soaked ladyfingers to my mouth.

So after dessert, we walked around Port Angeles, peaking in the windows of stores, my hand in his. After all the fretting over his age, or what he was, I took to being seen with him in public quite well. I don't know what it was; maybe because he looked much older than me, or maybe it was because I knew his secret now. For whatever reason, it felt right, his thick fingers curled around my hand, my palm meeting the rough, manly calluses on his.

He suddenly stopped in our walk in front of a warehouse-like building. "Now this," he suddenly said, pointing with the hand that held mine. "This is my favorite store here."

My eyes followed his hand to the store's name: Blow Hard Glass LLC. I was momentarily perplexed, feeling him watch me expectantly, before I read into the name of the store. "You're so unbelievably perverted!"

He guffawed like a donkey, snorting in the middle of a deep breath. His cackle was so loud, that several others turned to look at us.

Laughing with him, I smacked his arm with my free hand, only I forgot what a cement wall he was.

"Hey!"

"Ouch," I grumbled, letting go of his hand and grabbing my throbbing one.

"You okay?"

"I keep forgetting you're like cement."

Taking my wrist, he led me around the corner of the building, away from the sight of passersby. He lifted my hand up to his mouth, his lips brushing softly against my knuckles. "I'm sorry. I told you not to try that again." He turned it so my palm faced him, and he placed soft pecks on my skin, chocolate eyes gazing into mine.

A chill ran through me at the feeling of his lips against my palm, a place so rarely kissed. Something in his eyes told me he meant for me to feel this way. Clearing my throat, I was able to choke out, "Well if you weren't such a pervert, we wouldn't have this issue."

He closed the distance between us, dipping low. His lips were soft as suede against mine, lingering. Clinging. His tongue came out and stroked over my mouth. "My being a pervert an issue now?" His voice was raspy, filled with both longing and taunting.

My knees were weakening. I could feel it. And when my lips finally parted his, the velvet thrust of his tongue hit right between my thighs. I was horny like it was no one's business. I eased into his body, heat spearing into me as my breasts met his chest. My hands were on his shoulders before I could think, pulling his muscular body closer to mine.

He took my mouth, going deeper, leaving no corner untouched. Then the kiss changed, his tongue advancing and regressing, a rhythmic penetration that caused a fresh surge of heat in my panties. His hands were then working their way into my jacket, and then on my dress, at my ribcage. They traveled up the slope of my torso, and then flattened against the weight of my breasts. His mouth still moved on mine, and I could feel his stiff erection through his jeans, growing against my belly.

He pulled away suddenly, leaving me hanging. "Why'd you stop?"

A soft peck met my nose. "Only because I think you deserve better than a deserted alley in Port Angeles."

The crazy thing was, I was too blindly hot to see his point. I even opened my mouth to argue with him before realizing I should be flattered.

We basically raced it back to his Mustang, and then raced to the Lahote house. The tension was palpable in the car ride. We stumbled to his door, our lips intertwined. As he fumbled with his keys, I hugged him from behind, my hands searching his chest as my lips trailed kisses on his neck.

Making our way up the stairs, we trampled into his room. I was aware that the room was semi-cluttered, with a twin-sized bed. A dresser, and an indoor basketball hoop. But that's all I could capture, because our lips still moved against one another, our hands exploring each other.

When he tried to pull my jacket off, my arm caught in the sleeve, bringing a momentary break into the heated passion. "Agh," I grunted.

"Hold on, sorry," he breathed as he was able to pull it off my arm.

His mouth found mine again, his fingers on the zipper of my dress. But then he had issues zipping it all the way down, trying to pull the dress down too soon.

"What are you doing? There's more you need to unzip."

His fingers found the zipper again. "It won't," he grunted, frustrated.

"What?"

"It's stuck."

We pulled away as I tried to fumble with the zipper myself.

"Turn around," he insisted.

"I'll just do it."

"Just turn around," he said, turning me so my back faced him. I could feel a few tugs before it pulled down.

As I yanked his shirt over his head, the hem got caught in my mouth. "Ugh!"

"Oh, God, sorry."

He laughed. "It's okay."

But that wasn't the worst of it. Even his jeans were a debacle. His belt buckle was stuck, and it took a few moments to get its leather tongue out of the metal buckle. And when his fingers went to unfasten my bra, our heads bumped into each other.

"What the hell is wrong with us?" I grumbled as we both rubbed our heads.

He sighed, his aggravation apparent. "I don't know."

I wasn't sure what it was. Clearly it was nerves. But why? It wasn't like we'd never done this before. This was definitely not our first time.

"Maybe because we expect it this time," he thought out loud.

"Maybe so," I agreed. Could it be? Now that we had everything out in the opened, could that be the case.

He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips. "You're still sexy, you know."

I laughed.

His hand traced my face, following the curve of my neck, passing through my collarbone, and resting on my bare breast. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "So sexy."

That gentle squeeze awakened me, and my laughter faded. Goosebumps rose on my skin as they always did when he touched me. His eyes, heavy lidded as they were, bore into mine intently. He leaned in again, his lips crashing against my mouth. It took no effort for the awkwardness of the moment to be forgotten, not when his scorching lips moved decisively against mine, my hands gliding my panties off my legs for safe measure.

He sat up, his dark eyes taking me in—my body completely naked and lit dramatically by the moon. He was a vision in his own right, the grey light of the night casting shadows against the ridged jawline, the curves of his shoulders, the ripples of his chest and abdomen.

He stroked me from head to thigh with his hands, and I moved with him, surging, arching, feeling the bare skin of his chest against my breasts and stomach. The thin fabric of his boxers rubbed like body oil over my legs. I was aching and light headed as he nuzzled my neck and nipped at my collarbone, working his way down to the peaks of my breasts. I couldn't help but watch as his tongue appeared to run a circle around my nipple before he took it in his mouth. As he basically suckled me, his hand ran up my thigh.

When his hand reached my core, his fingers lightly hovering over the saturated flesh, I heaved under him, breath shooting out in a rush.

The groan that left him made his chest vibrate, and I felt his other hand apply pressure against my knee, a silent request to open wider.

He slipped a finger, and then two inside of me.

Panting and holding onto his shoulders with my nails, I watched Paul lick my breast as his fingers moved in and out of my body, his thumb in just the right place in every stroke. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, my blood rushing through my system with a violent heartbeat. My breath left me in short, loud pants, the momentum of my body's need for liberation approaching. In a flash of lighting, I exploded, the force of the release pitching me into a void where only white heat existed.

I felt his dark eyes on me, watching me intently, like always, throughout the whole mania, right up until I came down from the high.

Pushing himself up on his knees, he pulled down his shorts, worked them off his legs, and threw them across the room. He pushed his thigh between my legs, nudging them apart, but as I threw my head back, I hit it on something hard, cold, and from the sound of it, hollow metal.

"Ouch," I moaned, my hand coming up to my head.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hand reaching out to me.

I wasn't sure how imperfect this night was, and if we were going for an award for it, we were well on our way. However, I wasn't about to let some little mishaps ruin what could be a great evening.

"I'm fine," I whispered, rubbing the spot. It only hurt for a moment, but not enough to keep me from wanting what was waiting for me.

He shook his head regretfully. "Stupid headboard. I'm so sorry." His eyes looked at my head and then into my eyes as we both adjusted our positions further from the head of his bed. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," I insisted. "Now take me."

The demand took him by surprise, his eyes momentarily widening before becoming heavy-lidded. He smirked mischievously, pinning my arms over my head. This only made me hotter, and I felt a surge of more heat between my thighs. He seemed to read my reaction, reaching down and finding my mouth with his.

And so he did. He took me.

Paul was the picture of male ecstasy: a fine shine of sweat covered his broad chest and shoulders, his head kicked back, his dark locks tousled, his lips parted.

Though the physical aspect of it was amazing, engulfing me completely, I didn't miss the emotional connection between us. I didn't miss his eyes gazing purposefully into mine, nor the complete adoration in them that matched the desire he had for me. I was sure mine matched his own.

I didn't miss his fingers intertwining with mine as if to hold my hand as a best friend, even through passionate, lust-driven sex. It didn't take a genius to recognize the bond that we had—that we were tied together now. That, somehow, we were always meant to be tied this way.

And when it was over, and we were both two piles of mush laying beside one another, all sweaty and out of breath, I could only imagine that life couldn't get any better than this.

We had yet another hour to chill before my curfew was up. I enjoyed the time spent in his time, enjoyed the pillow talk. Even when it got too personal. Too uncomfortable.

"So you were a virgin?" I asked, stunned by his revelation.

"Well yeah, before just the other day."

"That's impossible."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, because."

"Because what?"

I stared at his face, wondering if I should admittedly tell him that the reason was I thought he was amazing in bed. So I figured I'd word it carefully. "Because you just seem… experienced."

"Oh. Um… well that's more because of Red Tube."

"Red Tube? What's Red Tube?"

"You don't know?"

"No."

"Nevermind then."

"Wait. Is that porn?"

A sheepish—almost shameless—grin cracked across his face. In fact, it seemed so brazen that it was almost annoying.

My hand curled into a fist, ready to hit him.

His hand caught my wrist even before I could lift it. "What'd I tell you about trying to hurt me?"

Relaxing my hand, I groaned. I took a calming breath before I said, "Why am I not surprised."

"Because I'm a pervert," he said, his voice mocking mine, leaning in to try to kiss me.

I tried to dodge him, squirming the opposite direction. "You can be such a prick."

"But I'm a prick who loves you," he whispered, stealing a kiss.

Sucker that I was, I let him.

His face straightened, seriousness creeping into his expression. "You're not a virgin." It was a comment, and not a question.

It wasn't something I wanted to touch on. Especially not tonight. I looked away, biting my lip. I didn't want to feel guilty for what I'd done in the past, but suddenly, I felt blameworthy. It was the last thing I wanted to feel, but here I was.

Though I felt him begin to tremble, he took deep calming breaths. "Ho-how many?"

"Guys?"

He turned away from me, facing his ceiling.

"Just one." Turning toward him after answering in a breath, I watched his profile carefully.

"The one you dated. The one that cheated on you."

"Yes."

He was quiet for a long time.

I let him think on it, too nervous about what else would happen if I said anything. Before I knew it, the silence was too long to bear. "Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Are you—I mean, it was a long time ago. And if I'd known any of this would've happened—"

His arm came round me assuredly. "Don't worry about it," he said.

"But Paul—"

"Like you said, it was a long time ago, right?"

"Right."

His hands cupped my face, and he kissed me slow and long. I could feel him lean to the side like he was trying to look over my shoulder. With our lips still connected, I turned that way to see what he was looking at, and I realized an alarm clock sat in that direction. He broke away after a long, lingering moment. "Shit," he muttered, getting up from the bed.

"Paul?" Oh God, was he still angry about my virginity? I really didn't want to get into this.

He took a glance at the clock again. "Come on, let's go."

Relief flooded me when I realized this was more about time than my sexual history. "My curfew really isn't that serious," I chuckled as he tossed me my bra and panties.

"This is the first time I am officially taking you out. I don't want any trouble with your father."

Watching him scramble for his pants, I argued. "He won't be angry with you."

"That's what you think. I don't let the wheelchair fool me. "

My chest filled with loneliness as he drove me home.

"I had a great time," I whispered, as we stepped towards my door. I realized how clichéd it was to say such a thing. How unoriginal. But no matter what, it was still the honest truth.

"You know I had a great time," he said, pulling me against him.

"Are you okay?" I didn't want to kill the mood, but after the virginity discussion, I had to make sure he was alright. "Are we?"

"I'm fine." His hand came up to my hair, brushing some of it behind my ear. "We're perfect."

"Are you sure?"

A smile stretched across his face. "I'm sure."

"I just…"

"I love you," he interceded. "No matter what you did in the past, I love you. And like you said, you had no idea."

"Right."

"And I'm being completely honest; I had an amazing time tonight."

"So did I," I said.

I welcomed the kiss goodnight. His lips moved slowly, lingering on my lower lip. It wasn't enough to get me hot and bothered; just enough to let me know he was sincere about loving me. About having a great time.

"Good night, Rachel Black."

"Good night, Paul."

* * *

Monday came just as soon as Saturday ended. Yesterday, Paul had come over for a few hours, and my father went to the Clearwater's with Charlie. Jake also left, claiming he had patrol duty. This morning, I hoped to have everyone under one roof, but to no avail. I fixed breakfast for everyone, though my Dad ate his quickly and left. As I flipped the cinnamon French toast on the pan, I was starting to suspect this had a lot more to do with my boyfriend than I'd like to admit.

That's when I saw my brother wordlessly breeze past the kitchen.

"Jake, where are you going? What about your breakfast?"

He walked out without a word.

"I'll eat his French toast," Paul volunteered.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course you will." I stretched my hand out toward a seat at the table for Paul, who had no problem taking the offer, plopping himself down at a large plate.

I poked at my breakfast as Paul wolfed down all of his and Jake(')s servings of bacon and French toast.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I just don't get my brother."

Paul sighed exasperatedly. "He's going through his own shit right now."

"Because the Swan girl married the vampire?"

"Well that, and that she's chosen to be turned."

"Turned?" It was a moment before I realized what that meant. "She wants to be one of them?"

"Yep."

I winced at the thought. "But why?"

He shrugged. "I guess she wants forever with her leech. Frozen at her age, just like him, and be immortal, just like him."

"Wow." I processed this. "So she's volunteering to die and become reanimated flesh for this guy?"

He laughed, getting up from the table and bringing our plates to the sink. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Was this a new decision of hers?" I got up to take more dishes to the sink.

He shook his head. "No. She's wanted this, like, forever. And Jake wants us to totally go after their family for it, since technically it breaks the treaty. They weren't to kill or change a human at all. It was part of their proof that they are different from the others."

"So why aren't you?"

He shook his head. "Sam has ruled that the Cullens aren't a threat. That Bella has chosen her own fate. To him, she's no longer our concern."

I was taken aback by that. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, if it were up to me, sure. Let's go get 'em. I'd like to take a stab at the big one. You know me, always eager for a fight. Any excuse is a good excuse."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course."

"I mean, for once, I agree with Jake. But Sam is my Alpha. I don't question his authority."

"Hmm," I wondered.

"Anyway, back to Jacob. He wonders how they're going to do it. What excuse they'll give to Charlie as to why she can't come around. She won't be able to see her dad anymore in her new life. No one in fact. She'll be too uncontrollable as a newborn; too thirsty, too dangerous."

I recalled the newborn army that he told me about… the one that they'd fought side by side with the Cullens against last winter.

"Jake, he's very bitter."

"But if this is what she's wanted for so long, why so angry now? Hasn't he had the time to think about this?"

He shrugged, scrubbing down the pan that I'd fried everything on. "He doesn't talk about this with you, I take it?"

"Not at all." I helped to dry and put away the dishes as he continued to watch.

After I walked over to the couch and sat down, looking up at him. "I mean… So what's all the drama? What did he find out at the wedding that he didn't know before?"

He sighed, his eyes rolling as he plopped down on the couch beside me. "That Bella and the vampire are going to have a 'real honeymoon.'" His fingers quoted the air, sarcastic drama in the lilt of his tone.

"As opposed to a 'fake one?' I don't get the big deal."

"Basically, Bella and her leech are gonna do the nasty before she's changed."

"First of all, how is that anyone's business? And secondly, what's wrong with that? They're married. I'm surprised they weren't doing it before."

He gave me a shocked expression.

"What?" I asked.

"They're not human, Raych. And they're all kinds of strong. He'd kill her before he got to jizz."

"Nice, Paul. That was real classy."

"Well, what did you expect me to say?"

"How about you? You're stronger than the average human. If it's dangerous for them, why isn't it dangerous for us to have sex?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because I'm still human, and I have control of my strength. There's no telling what restraint those bloodsuckers have… if they have any at all."

I furrowed my brows as I gave it more thought. "Oh."

His face was dead serious when he then said, "He could kill her."

We watched some TV. It was a whole lot of TLC and Food Network, though I cut him a break and watched some spike TV. But the TV was never a deterrent, especially when we were left alone.

Before you knew it, our hands were on each other.

He used both palms, running them up my shirt, cupping the weight of my breasts. Then they were down over my stomach and over my hips. My breath left me in a pant, and I began to run wet between my legs.

His fingers worked the fly of my jeans and then gripped the waist of both my jeans and my panties. "Lift them," he commanded gently, motioning at my legs. And when I did, all was off in one swift pull. I ran hot and needy between my thighs with my flesh bared to him.

His hand scooped underneath me, his palm and finger grabbing my ass and massaging deeply. His lips were on mine for a moment, his bare chest against me, and then he sat up again. My thighs were pushed apart, and I felt the heat of his hands as they coasted upward.

It was his mouth. My core. Two sets of lips meeting. His fingers dug into my cheeks to keep me in place while he went to work. His tongue was an amazing muscle. I could feel myself being penetrated between lapping drags, my head spinning. I called his name out over and over. It only encouraged him more, and I could hear the sound of flesh on flesh grow more rapid, and I gasped and moaned for him to continue. He knew the mastery he had over me, and used it to his full advantage. I had to turn to my pillow, take a chunk of it into my mouth and bite down just so that I could bare it.

The orgasm arrived in a devastating blast that had my legs flailing about. But his hefty body held me down with ease.

"Baby, can I try something new?" he asked.

I nodded. He could've asked me anything at that point and I would've said yes.

He flipped me over, bending me over so my shoulders sat flush to the mattress. He then proceeded to have his way with me.

I didn't mind at all. In fact, I loved it.

It was . Beautiful.

When it ended, he crashed his mouth onto mine, his lips massaging my own, groaning into the kiss. The exchanged felt fair and satisfying.

Before long, I felt his arms cocoon me in an embrace, his lips pressing gently but reassuringly on my neck. "Are you okay?" he was able to ask, once his breath caught up with him.

I wasn't able to answer, still out of breath, but I managed to nod my head yes.

He sat on the air mattress, positioning me to lie beside him, cradling me against his body. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

I shook my head.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," I breathed.

I felt him kiss the top of my head. "Good," he whispered, his fingers finding my hair and brushing it out of my face. "Good."

It wasn't until then that my body caught up with my breathing. "That was amazing," I sighed against his chest.

He chuckled, his breath blowing into my hair. "It was," he agreed. "It was pretty damn hot, if you ask me."

I laughed.

It was the greatest pleasure I'd ever known. I would hate to ever be without the option to do this with Paul—to be able to express our selves in this special, intimate way. My mind ran to Isabella, and her immortal husband, and how they couldn't even begin to do this without wondering if it would kill her.

I would hate to have that issue, and for a moment I felt sorry for them. I then remembered my brother and his bitterness over the situation, and I was actually happy she'd chosen the leech over Jake. Anyone who would want that life didn't deserve him.

Jacob deserved much, much better.

* * *

**Endnotes:**

* * *

Again, thanks for your patience. I hope to get chapter 10 out to you. I only have 15 chapters planned for this fic, but i realize i'm not getting much response in terms of reviews for this fic. I am seriously currently considering making 10 my last. If you believe i should prolong it, please leave me a review. I also set up a poll for just this purpose. To participate in the HLW poll, please go to my profile here on so much!

Also, if you have an interest in a Rosalie story, go and check out Vanity and Patience and its companion fic, Strength and Remorse.


	10. Chapter 10: Heat

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

* * *

Special thanks to my beta, LauraWeasley.

I apologize for the months that lead up to this chapter. Life has been hectic. I hope all of you aren't too upset about that. I'm sure you'll need to reacquaint yourselves with the storyline because I've been gone so long, so feel free to back-read on the previous chapters.

Thanks to everyone for their support and their votes on whether HLW should end at this chapter or my idea original 15 chapters. Based on the outcome, feedback, and a closer look at my story outline, I had concluded it would take 14 chapters to finish.

However, after writing chapter 10, and getting it back from Laura, and then adding more to it, this original chapter ended up over 20,000 words. I have decided to split it and give you another chapter. (So now, yes, the whole story will be 15 chapters in length.)

NOTICE: All my explicit material has been edited in comlpliance of FFnet and its Terms of Service. If you are interested in the full, explicit version, please find the story in Twilighted dot net (under achelle131).

Happy Reading!

Playlist:

Ambassadors - Litost

Gotye - Somebody I Used to Know

Chante Moore - Love's Taken Over

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Heat**

* * *

Brushing a bit of sand off my pants, I gently adjusted the blanket beneath me, the constant wind carrying over from the pacific hitting the right side of my face. I shifted the camera strap around my neck, lifting to take a snapshot of the action. My eyes followed the soccer ball as Paul, Sam, Embry and Leah kicked it around between each other. It was my last Saturday before the new job. Paul thought it would be a good thing to spend time with the pack and their girls before I got tied down with work.

I hadn't photographed anything in a while so I made sure to bring my Nikon. We made a picnic of sandwiches, chips, potato salad, and soda. I'd chipped in to make some turkey club sandwiches with bacon and avocado, my favorite, to contribute to the lunch.

After swallowing her first bite, I heard Emily exclaim, "Yum!"

"Let me try," Sam insisted, and Emily let him have a drive-by bite into his sandwich.

"This is so good," Emily crooned as she took another bite.

Sam's dark eyes gleamed appreciatively at the sandwich and then flitted towards me. "That_ is_ good. I'm definitely having one after the game!"

"Thanks," I said before taking another shot, this time of Embry and Jake fighting over the ball. "Be sure to. I made plenty."

"Will do." He gave me a smile, though something in his eyes seemed a little surprised and pleased at how I spoke to him just then.

I made an effort to be all right with Sam. To be amiable with Emily. For Paul. Because Sam was his Alpha, and Paul worshipped him. He worshipped them both, actually, and because of that, wanted so badly for me to like them, too.

Despite the loyalty I felt to Leah, I knew I had to be mature about things. The feeling of guilt and betrayal for being okay with Emily or Sam was still there, but I also knew all of us had to get over it soon. And I could tell that Leah tried to be understanding, though we never really spoke outright about it. I could perceive it in our interactions that she didn't hold me accountable to her being my only friend in the tribe, but I still didn't want to ever hurt her. It was hard to put myself somewhere in this situation, so I decided on some place in the middle. Leah will always be my best friend, but I can make the effort to get along with Sam and Emily. I would be cool with them, but when it came down to it, Leah was my girl.

But yes, since they were important to Paul, I had to make sure things were good between me and them. I'd even made it a point to sit with them on the blanket sitting between them, Jared and Kim.

Between plays the guys would come for a drink, and I would catch Sam's expression when Emily would hand him his water bottle. There was a deep appreciation and love there, the same expression that Paul wore for me. And then I finally got it. If Emily felt half of what I was feeling for Paul when she looked at Sam, I knew it would be virtually impossible to resist, and it was the first time I could actually understand her choice, that no matter how much she cared about Leah, she couldn't deny her feelings for Sam.

Maybe I was on the road to forgiving them both for what happened. To let go of my own objections and judgmental attitude toward their union. But that was going to take time. Rationally, it was silly to hold a grudge with them over a situation that wasn't mine to begin with, but as my eyes caught the loneliness in Leah's eyes as she went for a Sprite in the cooler nearby, I was instantly reminded of the pain it all caused my friend. I suddenly realized that until she found happiness, I could never be truly happy for Emily and Sam.

I hoped that she would. I hope she would find someone better than Sam. Someone better for her. Someone like my Paul. I had a fleeting thought as Jake nearly knocked her over to get his soda that maybe_ her_ and _Jake_…

Nah. That would be too weird. I snickered softly at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Paul asked, settling on the blanket next to me as Jake took a seat with Leah, Embry, and Seth on a dead tree trunk yards away from us.

"Nothing," I said. I suddenly realized that we were somewhat segregated today, with all those imprinted on the sand, and those left over on the trunk. I hoped that wouldn't last long, that we could all get together and not separate from each other just because we all had significant others. I wanted Leah to find her happiness. I wanted Jake to be happy too. Maybe not exactly with each other, but with something better than who or what they long for currently.

As I felt Paul snake his arm around me, I watched Quil with Claire looking out at the horizon after just skipping stones on the water. As I felt him get up from me to get himself a soda, I still watched the strange duo, the young man and the toddler girl.

I thought the pairing disturbing at first: a sixteen-year-old imprinting on a three-year-old. It was difficult to wrap my head around, even after Paul tried to explain the phenomenon to me. It still disturbed me, until I saw that he really was just an older brother to her, for now and for as long as she'll need it.

Paul had described it so eloquently that I had to look in his dark eyes as he said it. "It's not so much that he imprinted on a child, per se, but on the essence of the person that she will one day be. That person exists even at a young age. We imprint to a person's soul, and not the physical being. True, the physicality of it all comes at the right time and is a big part of it, but not the only part. In that same sense, he'll still love and adore her when she gets really old. Like beyond sex old, because the essence of the person that you are, that part that we attached to, is with you from your birth to your death." I responded by saying that was the most beautiful thing he'd ever said to me, but I still didn't believe him. I didn't understand it.

It wasn't until I saw them the next time that I could see that he genuinely cared for her, but not in any sort of inappropriate way. The way he looked at her with genuine concern or sincere happiness—that alone was enough for me to be a believer. To accept such a strange phenomenon without complete understanding of it. A mystery that was easy to consent without full comprehension.

Even at that very moment, with the breeze blowing the cherubic toddler's hair into Quil's face, he seemed to not mind it at all. In fact, he seemed to be playing a game of peek-a-boo with her using her long black hair, and hiding behind her back. He was just happy and carefree as ever, reminding me a lot of how Paul is around me.

"Hey," Paul breathed, joining me on the blanket after their soccer game was over, taking my attention away from Claire and Quil. He leaned over and planted a kiss on my nose, pulling back to give me a sexy smile.

"Hey," I echoed, returning the grin. As he took a sip of his Dr. Pepper, he wrapped his free arm around me from behind, both of us watching the sea as the pack laughed and chatted around us. He was such a strong, steady barricade of warmth against me.

The banter was there again, the camaraderie of family gathering at one place, who all don't necessarily get along completely, but all still love one another in their own way, and are essentially one unit. As I glanced at all the faces around us, I realized that all of these people would be in my life—or in Paul's and my life, for that matter—for a long, long time.

We returned home, the rest of the pack following to the house. I automatically assumed it was a tribe council meeting. I even walked into the back and pulled out a notebook from my room and my favorite pen to take notes with. Tribe histories were spouted out at these things, and I wanted to be prepared, but as I stepped back into the kitchen, everyone was gathered around the table, with smiling faces. Tall wolf-boy bodies parted, and in the center of the table was a cake iced in fluffy white with I assumed to be 21 candles lit up, ready to break in the smoke alarm. As all of them sang happy birthday to me, Paul offered me his hand and dragged me to the table, square in front of the cake. My father and brother's eyes were alight with glee over their surprise.

For the first time, surrounded my friends, family and loved ones, back in La Push—the home I'd so shamelessly avoided because of painful memories—I was sincerely and utterly happy. This year, instead of a wish of desire, I wished to be rewarded for my gratitude that change was finally happening in my small existence.

oOo

I'd just stepped out of the shower after making a breakfast of cheese omelets, toast and fried smoked kielbasa for the house, when my father wheeled into the kitchen whistling.

"Got somewhere to be?" I asked him, noting he was dressed to go out.

"I'm going over to Sue's with Charlie later," he answered, checking out the spread on the table. "After you leave for Portland." Picking up a piece of the sausage and popping it into his mouth, he gushed, "You spoil us, Rachel."

I laughed in response. "I like to take care of my men."

He nodded in agreement. "Excited about your first day?" he asked. I was going to start my job the following morning, and I would be driving with Paul in a couple of hours to Portland. Neither of them liked the fact that I'd make the trip alone; especially Paul. To a mix of my father's dismay and relief, Paul volunteered to accompany me on my drive to and from Oregon. Paul wasn't going to stay the whole length of my training. In fact he would head back to Forks on all fours via wolf and return on Wednesday night, my last night of job preparation.

"Yes," I sighed. "Well, more nervous than excited, it feels."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine. It's always nerve-wracking to do something new. But, Rachel, you have to know, I'm very proud of you."

Speaking of something new, my brother stepped out of his room, feet dragging. He looked tired, dazed, and distracted. He grabbed a soda can from the fridge, two slices of toast, sandwiching an omelet between them, heading for the door.

"You're not going to stay for breakfast?" Dad asked, though I was relieved that he at least thought to feed himself.

Jake shook his head. "No, thank you." It wasn't in a disrespectful tone. Just one that was tired and dejected.

"Jake—" I began.

"Yea?" he asked, pausing at the door. His head turned in my direction but his eyes barely met mine.

The fact made me frown. "You…," I thought for a moment to ask if he was going to join us to eat, but he hasn't felt very family-oriented lately, so I did a last minute switch of question. "Will I see you before I leave?"

He sighed, his dark eyes turning to me. "Leave?" he asked, with a blank expression.

"She's leaving for Portland," Dad reminded him. "For training for her new job."

His face grew with understanding. "Oh that's right," he responded, attempting a half-hearted smile. He asked me when I'd be back, and I answered Thursday morning a little too earnestly, pleased that he took at least a little interest in my schedule.

A forced smile stretched across his disheartened face. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I said, thinking that was lame. All I got was a "good luck," with not so much a pat on the back or his one of his trademark fist-pounds.

As he opened the door and a foot was almost out, he hesitated. His body turned and walked toward me and gave me a hug. "I'm sure you'll do great. Good luck, Rachel."

"Thanks," I breathed.

"Not that you'll need it," he said as he pulled back, his mouth finally stretched in a sincere grin.

"Thank you, Jake." I returned the smile. God, I missed my brother.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go meet up with Embry," he mumbled. "Bye, Dad. Good luck again, sis."

We both watched him walk out in silence. I felt guilty about it, but I'd almost grown to hate what he's become—this brooding, distracted, angry, and unfocused kid—because of the Swan girl. "How long do you think he'll be like this?"

"There's no telling," he said.

"It's like as the days go by, his mood gets worse."

"They'll be back from their honeymoon soon," he offered. "He's waiting for his chance to fight Edward."

My eyes widened. "Still? But Paul says Sam won't allow it."

He let out an exasperated sigh. "I know." I saw my own worry mirrored in my father's eyes. The grief there.

"He wants to leave, doesn't he? If he can't fight Edward."

The heartache was palpable in his voice when he sad, "I think fight or not, he wants to leave. He wants confirmation that Bella's alive… or at least that she's survived the change. But in his eyes, the Cullens have broken the treaty, whether she survives the process or not. I think he wants to kill Edward to punish him for this, but I think he also wants to go and be alone… to… mourn his best friend."

I pushed a piece of egg around my plate with my fork, staring at it. "I'd rather sleep on the floor than lose him again."

"I know that, sweetheart." His hand rose to rub my back in a consoling manner. "I don't want him to leave either. No one does.

Paul showed up to the house a little before noon, and after my dad kissed me goodbye and good luck, we were on our way to Portland. Paul was enthusiastic about the trip, unable to resist the chance to stay in a hotel room alone together. As I drove, Paul played DJ with my stereo, bringing a whole bunch of his CDs and explaining which songs reminded him of me. We were still in that new-relationship, googly-eyed stage, where we were still learning about one another. I was determined to relish it for as long as it lasted.

When you're used to snippets of time, our upcoming full night together, as well as the one we'll have Wednesday night, might as well be forever. The way I felt during the drive was like bursting off the school bus on the first day of summer vacation: no worries except what to do first. Ride bikes, go to the pool, etc. But that day I knew what I wanted to do first, and judging by the excited smirk Paul wore on his face, I was sure he was thinking the same thing.

You could almost read his giddy excitement as we pulled up to the Portland Marriot City Center, and even more fired up when we walked in. "Fancy," he breathed while looking around the three-story lobby as I spoke to a front desk representative about my booking. We checked in and emptied my luggage into my room.

Stepping into the room, I realized this might be the first time Paul had been to a hotel that was this nice before. Granted, it wasn't five-star accommodations, but neither of us came from families with a wealthy disposition to afford such lavish hotels and things. The huge, white, king-sized bed was awfully inviting to us both, but not in the way I would think for Paul. I was half expecting him to get me naked on the bed, but he simply kicked his shoes off, sitting onto the mattress in a way that seemed to test its spring.

I headed to the bathroom and unpacked my toiletries, arranging them along the counter and around the sink when I suddenly heard thumping from the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I asked, catching Paul jumping barefoot on the bed like a 5-year-0ld, with a goofy grin on his face, his cackle of a laugh filling the room.

He motioned me to join him, and I shook my head initially, but he looked so sincerely amused doing this that I found myself wanting to do it too. Only a few words of encouragement was all it took before I found myself kicking off my flats and jumping on the bed with him, laughing and playing like we were six years old.

It didn't take long for me to fall onto my side onto my bed—which I swear was Paul's fault like he tried to trip me during my jump—and for Paul to fall right on top of me—yet another "accident" that was on"purpose."

He smiled down on me as I tried to catch my breath. I hated that he was so supernaturally fit, and I was just as ordinarily out of breath as any person off the street.

My stomach growled, Paul picking up on the sound right away. "Dinner?" he asked.

I nodded excitedly, happy to be in a new city with my new boyfriend.

For dinner, I was feeling adventurous, and convinced Paul to walk a few blocks to Sushi Sakura for some conveyer belt Maki rolls.

We had to pace ourselves as we strategically picked out intriguing plates that sluggishly passed us on the belt that swerved through the restaurant. There were color-coded plates according to price, and I knew something like this would break the bank if we weren't careful. I wanted to try most everything but the eel. He wanted everything that was cooked, mostly some rock shrimp tempura, chicken teriyaki, and some tonkatsu.

So as he crunched on some tonkatsu and sampled California rolls, he watched me with careful, curious eyes as I picked up a piece of yellowtail roll with my chopsticks and stuck it in my mouth.

"So that's like… raw fish."

I confirmed with a nod and a giggle, watching his face turn sour. I felt his eyes on me, like they always are, as I chewed further, tasting the creaminess of the avocado and melt-in-your-mouth fish in the rice, seaweed paper, and savory soy sauce.

His eyebrows scrunched together. "Is it really that good? It's not like… slimy or anything?"

I shook my head vigorously. "Try it," I suggested. I leaned over the table with another piece of yellowtail roll, bringing it to his mouth. He studied it for a moment. "It's Buri, err, Yellowtail."

One of his brows furrowed in doubt.

"Yellowtail is a type of fish."

His eyes still inspected it, his head straining away. "Seriously? It looks so… _raw_."

"Yes we established that earlier. Come on, Paul. You've gotta at least try it. If you don't like it, I'll lay off." It was weird how comfortable I'd grown with him in such a short amount of time. This time last week I was doing all I could to ignore him. Now he was my best friend.

With is eyes squeezed shut, he opened his mouth and chewed quickly, slowing down the motion as he tasted it. He swallowed, and then took a long sip of his Coke.

"So?" I coaxed.

"It's a little weird."

"Is it?" I shrugged, concluding that he didn't like it. But as I went for my next bite, I saw another set of chop sticks out of the corner of my eye grab a piece. My eyes shot up to him, scrutinizing him as he chewed the next one thoughtfully. "You_ like_ it?"

He shrugged this time, popping another into his pie hole. "It's growing on me," he muttered with a mouthful, a big grin creeping on his face.

I returned his smile, unable to resist the fact that it pleased him to have yet another common like. Suffice to say, we split the rest of the roll.

He shocked me when he turned to the belt, grabbing a plate of what looked like Rainbow Roll. "So what's this then?"

"I think that's the rainbow roll—a cali roll with different types of fish on top."

His mouth curled down thoughtfully as he noted, "I liked the California roll. Do you know what kind of fish this is?"

"Yellow tail, salmon, tuna. Not sure what the other white fish is though."

He shrugged and had a piece, chewing attentively again, enjoying my scrutiny. After a few more bites, he says. "That's it. I'm sold. I love sushi."

I laughed. "So awesome. I love it!"

He grabbed my hand, his thumb smoothing over my knuckles. "I love you."

My lips twitched as I put effort toward suppressing a huge grin. "Love you, too."

The rest of dinner was a blur, and we found ourselves back in the room. This time, there was no jumping on the bed like little children. His hand took hold of mine, dragging me forward to the center of the room. The electric sexual tension was thick in the suite, filling the space between us.

With one swift yank of his arm on my wrist, I was flush against his large body. He kissed me slow, the movement of his lips languid and sensual. His fingers press the back of my neck.

"I'm so glad you're here with me," I offered when he finally pulled away.

"Me too," he whispered as he worked on the fly of my jeans.

I lead Paul to the bed, undressing him, admiring his body from every angle. Kissing him in new places. On the back of knee. His elbows. We finally had time on our side.

Gently pushing me onto the bed, he hoisted himself on top of me. As he straddled my legs, his sex jutted out of his body, heavy, proud, demanding. But before he could lean down towards me, my hands found his length, and he shuddered, and almost immediately, I saw sweat breaking out all over him. Watching me touch him, my palm sliding up and down his shaft, he seemed to let himself go for the moment.

I sat up suddenly, and a sigh of anticipation left him. My lips parted and took him carefully into my mouth.

Paul gasped and fell back on his arms. "Holy... shit."

He was so elegantly shaped, his skin so smooth and luscious, that I actually took sincere pleasure in this act. His fingers speared into my hair, the tips of his fingers massaging my scalp as my tongue glided against his length. He grunted and moaned his pelvis thrusting to an inconsistent rhythm. As my right hand clamped over his girth and ran the remainder of his length that my mouth couldn't accommodate, my other hand scooped up under him, grabbing the strong curve of his backside. His ass was just too deliciously shaped for me to resist. "Oh my God, baby,_ yes_."

It took no time for him to release, the warm jets shooting into my mouth. I'd swallowed unconsciously, letting him flow down my throat, only noting the fact after he was done. I'd never done that before, with a strict spit-only policy. But this was Paul, and, much like he felt for me, I realized there was nothing I wouldn't do for him.

His breath hadn't returned to him when he leaned down and kissed me, pulling my head up by the chin with his fingers to meet his face. "I was trying not to go yet," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to have sex."

"Ah," I nodded with a giggle. "Sorry."

He snorted. "I wasn't looking for an apology. That was... fuckin' awesome, don't get me wrong. I'm far from complaining. I was just letting you know that it wasn't my goal." He lay me down on the bed, his head tilting as he regarded me, a thought coming to his mind. "So maybe we should work on you until I can go again?"

Before I could answer, his mouth was on mine, his lips moving slowly, yet passionately. They trailed past my chin, past my collar bone. He licked a path on the valley between my breasts, nipped gently at my nipples. My torso arched in response, instantly moistening between my thighs, only prompting him to swirl his tongue around one while his hand massaged my other bosom. He kissed a path to my navel, where he lingered and nipped before he moved onto my left hip, I giggled involuntarily my head turning to the side. Goose pimples multiplied all over my skin, as was his consistent effect he had on me. And then suddenly he parted my legs and cupped my core, and a gasp flew out of my mouth instantly.

Grinning up at me, he then glided his mouth toward the apex of my thighs.

A soft growl left his lips, more like a purr, as he ran his nose up and down my center, very softly, very gently. I writhed underneath him. He blew a breath gently up the length of my sex. Where the hell does he learn this stuff? I made a note to ask him later, though a part of me warned me that I probably shouldn't.

"It's payback time." I heard the wicked grin in his voice, jolting me back to the moment. My body sang from his words, and his tongue started to slowly circle my clitoris. I felt the warm grip of his calloused hands hold down my thighs to keep me in place.

I moaned his name as my body bowed and convulsed at the touch of his wet mouth against me.

He swirled his tongue round and round, again and again, keeping up the torture. I was losing all sense of self, every atom of my being concentrating hard on that small, potent livewire between my legs. My limbs went rigid.

Within those seconds of release, I barely registered what he was doing. Reaching between our bodies, he quickly positioned himself, and then his dark eyes found mine. Without breaking eye contact with me, he filled me—completed me. I watched an expression of utter ecstasy cross his feature as his eyes rolled back in his head.

All I cared about was this—the delicious sensation of Paul Lahote—my boyfriend—moving with me at a steady, practiced tempo. His muscular arms were braced on either side of my head, and he was panting with exertion.

Making love to him was different this time, but only because there were no time restraints, no sneaking around, no beating the rush of my brother coming home, or my father walking in on us. We were able to leisurely enjoy one another, kissing him behind the knee, licking me on the elbow.

We made love slowly, each of us stopping each other at various points until we couldn't stand it any longer, and then reversing in the other reckless, fiery direction. It felt more like we were the only two people in this world, and though many times before I'd felt this way, no other time had the feeling ever been so solid. I sank my nails into the back of his neck, pulling his face harder towards me, savoring every slow, passionate moment of it.

When it was over, he collapsed beside me, and with his hand, gently, but firmly turned me on my side, my back towards him. As his arms cocooned my body, I relished being spooned by him, his warm breath on my neck.

"I can't believe we get to stay the night together, finally," he breathed.

I shut my eyes at his deep, raspy voice, winded from his climax. So undeniably sexy. "Neither can I."

"I've been too damn excited for this night," he confessed.

A smile touches my lips. "So have I."

I feel his face change into a smile, his cheek resting in the side of my head. And then his lips press against the base of my neck before he placed his head back behind mine.

My smile stretched even wider, my heart constricting with notably corny, but undeniable joy. Nothing could ruin this night, even if we tried.

Somewhere in that moment of post-coital bliss, the tendrils of fatigue and happiness pulled me into slumber. I couldn't exactly recall my dreams that night, but I knew they were of bliss, with Paul involved. Of course there was no surprise there.

I woke to his dark eyes watching me. His lips curled up in the corners as he whispered, "Good morning, baby." It was just enough sunlight filtering through the hotel room curtains, reflecting off his irises that made them glimmer.

It is a moment beyond perfection—beyond anything I'd ever imagined before. It was hard to believe that brown eyes could glow like his did, but they did, and to wake up to such a thing. Amazement wasn't enough of a word for what I felt. I smiled at the sight. "Good morning." The aging lines around his bronze eyes grew prominent on his smiling face, causing my heart to skip a beat. I was not mistaken—it was an amazing way to wake up.

"I don't think anything could top this moment right here," I confessed.

He read the bashfulness in my expression. "This goes down in my top ten, too."

"What's your number one?" I mused.

"Our first time."

"Ah." And I'm brought back to that day, answering the door in a towel, and him looking like walking sex in nothing but shorts. The way he came at me, so unexpected.

His smile was vindictive, his eyes far away. I was sure he was reliving the same thing. I dragged a finger along his chest, bringing him back to me. "What would be yours?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. They may all be the same in your top 10, but I'm not sure if I could give you an order."

I felt him move, his hand appearing from underneath the mattress. "Maybe this might help you put things in order."

He moved his hand so it was above me, something shiny hung from his fingers. It took me a moment to focus before I saw from his forefinger and thumb dangled a silver chain with a pendant of an "R" on it.

"Paul," I gasped.

"Happy birthday."

"Paul! That's for me?" I still couldn't fathom it.

He motioned for me to sit up and with the other hand positioned me so that my back was to him. He reached both arms around me, hanging the pretty silver piece in front of my neck and securing it in the back. I felt a hot kiss on my shoulder. "I hope you like it."

I looked to my left, where a full length mirror hung. "It's beautiful." It was slightly heavy, no doubt solid silver.

I turned and embraced him, letting my weight crush him beneath me.

"Not nearly as fine as you, though," he said.

I brushed my lips against his. "Thank you," I whispered, my lips still grazing his mouth.

He nodded, but his eyes fixed suddenly on a point behind me. "First day on the job," he breathed, his hand coming up to brush the length of my arm with a feather-light caress. "How does it feel?"

The reminder brought a flip to my stomach. "Nerve-wracking," I admitted, sitting up.

His hand reached for my face, brushing some straggling locks of hair out of my face and behind my ears. I shivered at the heat of his touch. "I'm sorry. But you know, I'm sure you'll do fine. No, not just fine. Amazing. I'm pretty sure you'll do amazing." His other arm wrapped around my body assuredly, the warmth of his body tempting me not to leave.

"You make it hard for me to leave for work, lying here."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his fingers combing through my hair. His expression—the devilish grin and bedroom eyes—suggested he wasn't serious about his apology.

"You do," I said.

"You make it hard for me, too," he breathed with a mischievous face, pressing his pelvis against me, his thick erection hoisted against my hip.

I laughed and pushed him away. "You're truly a pervert."

"You like it," he insisted, his hand slipping between my thighs and finding my weakest spot.

I flinched as his fingers ran across my flesh, a moan escaping my lips. I could've laid there until he got me undone, but there was a view of the alarm clock from over his shoulder. It was 7:15, and I had to report for work at 8. "I have to get ready for work. Shower and all," I could barely voice.

"Well then let's get you in that shower." He got up, and scooped me into his brawny arms, carrying me into the bathroom.

After showering together, he watched TV and ironed my blouse and trousers as I anxiously got ready, giving my hair an impeccable blow out and natural make up job on my face. And then he walked me out of my hotel, grabbing hot chocolate and a bagel at Starbucks and having breakfast on a sidewalk bench right outside my new office building. It was hard to say goodbye to him, but I wasn't so sure if it was because I was just so nervous.

"Have a great first day at work. I'll see you Wednesday afternoon."

"Okay," I said, but watching his sexy was so difficult to resist that I ran towards him, crashing into is arms when he turned to look back at me, and pressed my lips to him again.

Work was a little too boring the first day. They assigned me a laptop, but all the training I received was the email system, time reporting tutorials, and a crash course on using their database. After filling out countless employment forms, they told me that the real training would begin on my second day.

Those days moved quickly, learning the ins and outs of their system. The evenings were tough without Paul, even though I knew I'd see him Wednesday after work. We'd talk on the phone and watch TV together, but after spending nearly every waking moment with him these last couple of days, I was having withdrawals.

Wednesday afternoon could not come any sooner.

I opened the door and found him sitting on the bed, in front of a rolling cart.

I ran to him anyway, crashing into his arms, melting into him. The rest of the day's events seemed to fade at this moment.

Capturing my lips with his, he kissed me gently before pulling away. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you, too."

Somehow managing to shake himself out of it, he stepped back and over to the cart. He lifted the food cover, revealing burgers, fries and shakes. His expression seemed a little embarrassed. "It's from Carl's Jr. I know it's not fancy yellow tail and all but…"

"I love it!" I said, grabbing a long fry and stuffing it in my mouth in the way that only Paul would appreciate.

We spent dinner on the bed, laughing at old episodes of _That 70's Show_.

"You've got ketchup on your—"

I searched my chest, brushing off crumbs. "Where?"

"Right here." His finger pointed towards my cleavage, and there, high on my left breast was a pretty sloppy glob of ketchup.

"What the hell? When did I do that?" I laughed, and he laughed along.

"I guess I'm not the only one who's a sloppy eater."

"I never said I was perfect," I groaned, grabbing a napkin to wipe it off.

His hand suddenly stopped mine. "Allow me," he insisted, and something in his hooded gaze makes me listen.

He leaned down towards my chest, and I felt a moment of his heated breath before his lipswere on my skin, and his tongue caressed the spot, languidly washing it off.

My eyelids fell over my visionat contact, and my hands were immediately in his hair. He pulled away to stare at me for one infinitesimal moment.

It only took that one moment to get a jump start, and we began to yank and peel off our clothes from each other between kisses, gropes, licks, and palming. It had only been a couple days since we last saw each other, but it was long enough to have an effect on both of us**—**desperate to get under each other's skin.

His mouth found mine, his tongue plummeting past my lips. The fever of his kiss transferred to me and through my body, coursing through my limbs and tingling my fingers and toes. His hands pawed at my panties, and with one swift tug they became torn remnants on the floor beside our feet.

In a small part of my mind, I noted the loss of my undergarment, but as it was, I was too engrossed in the moment that it didn't matter.

A reunion could never be sweeter, and several excruciating instances later—after being lolled against the headboard, or hoisted around his waist and thrown against the wall—he lifted me from alongside the wall, kissing me passionately as he walked me backwards.

Both of us spent, he gently placed me on the bed, and he followed, curling up next to me. Enveloped in each others limbs, we lay staring up at the ceiling together, letting our breaths catch up with ourselves. Once both our heart rates and breathing had calmed, we both stood quietly, he to slip on his boxers and get a drink of soda, and I to slide on a bra and a new pair of underwear. We both clambered into bed again, entangling each other in our own limbs. Aside from the occasional peck exchanged with one another on our lips, our face, our hands, our shoulders, we didn't speak for minutes, maybe even hours.

Making the point to relish these moments, I closed my eyes, letting myself feel the heat of his body around me, skin to skin. Listening to his breathing, feeling his heart beat against my own, appreciating the way he commands goose bumps on my skin as he lightly traced my arms with the pads of his fingers. It was hard to put into words the elation I felt at that moment, to be with someone so amazing, and to share something so tender and equally as incredible with that very person.

Suddenly, he turned to me, both of us lying on our sides towards each other, and he reached out, finding an errant strand of hair on my face and tucked it behind my ear. His lips twitched, their corners turning upwards, and his head shook side to side at a thought.

"What is it?" I whispered, seeing the awe in his eyes.

He hesitated for a brief instance before offering, "I just can't believe it sometimes."

"What?"

"That I'm with you. That you and I..."

My fingers touched his lips before he finished his sentence. "I know; me neither."

"You could have anyone you wanted. But you chose me."

I shook my head vehemently. "I don't think so." I inched forward, nuzzling my nose against his. "Plus, I don't think you'd allow it to ever come to that. I don't think you would've stopped until I gave in."

"That's true," he agreed with a chuckle. "But still, I can't believe I have you. I still don't quite feel worthy of it."

My brows cinched at his musings. Never had I felt an ounce of love from another guy that compared to the depths of his feelings. "You're more than worthy, Paul." He was shaking his head as I said it, so I took his face into my hands. "I really don't understand why you think that way. I've never felt more than ordinary my whole life... and then you come along..."

"And?" His eyes watched me expectantly, waiting.

"With you I feel... beautiful, and flawless," I admitted sheepishly, "even though I _know_ I'm flawed."

He flinched back as if what I said was ludicrous. "Flawed? You're perfect as ever."

"Please, I have big hips and small boobs." Getting up from the bed, I walked over to the bathroom mirror.

I stood in front of the my reflection, still in only a bra and lace-trimmed-cotton boy shorts. I let out a frustrated sigh. Normally I wouldn't be doing this in front of any guy, but for some reason, the comfort I felt around Paul was limitless. Plus, I felt the need to wake him up from his imprinted blindness and see that I'm not as perfect as he seemed to think I was.

He got up from the bed as he said. "You really don't see yourself the way the rest of the world does."

"I don't get what you're saying," I muttered, brushing off the comment, inspecting my pear-shaped body.

He stood behind me, his eyes on mine through my reflection in the mirror. "You have a tiny ribcage," he whispered, his lips brushing gently against my earlobe, his hands tracing the shape of my figure. "Your hips are just fine, but in comparison, they only seem big because your torso is tiny."

I narrowed my eyes. "Whatever," I mumbled, though I could almost see what he was saying. My breath stopped short when his hands traveled up my torso and cupped the weight of my breasts.

"And I'll have to disagree with you on your boobs." He gave them a light, but deliberate squeeze. "So full. They're shaped just right, and on that little ribcage, they are huge." His lips played with my earlobe this time, his warm breath against the side of my face.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head right before they shut, and I felt his fingers lightly trace a path down my ribcage, past my belly and onto my hip bone.

"Your hips are just fine." He cupped the curve of my hips and his fingers clamped on them tightly, pulling me back and against him. "My hand fits right around them, you see."

I let out a sharp breath, feeling his hard nature against my ass.

His fingernails raked ever so lightly across the length of the top of my thighs. "In fact, I think they're perfect." My skin awakened immediately with a tingle of longing, the muscles between my thighs clenching deliciously. But even after all that, my mind was still dubious. "You've used the word 'perfect' a few times already." My voice wasn't my own. It was strained with tension, my breath quickening.

As his teeth grazed my earlobe, he whispered, "Because I mean it." He pressed his hips up against my body, and I felt his erection on the small of my back.

I pooled with desire automatically, a flood of warmth surging at my center. I made note that his nose flared at the same moment. Could he really smell that?

"It seems you want me to show you," he purred. "I'm up for that."

And of course he was up for it. I wanted to utter those words out loud but I didn't want to ruin such a hot, sensual moment, especially one that was helping to boost my ego. Besides, I was too worked up, too shook with desire to even voice anything.

His hands slipped under my underwear, tracing the crease between my thigh and pubic bone. My mind went numb, and my breathing became shallow, and like that, I was putty in his hands. Heart pounding loudly in my ears, my foot slid to the side a few inches, widening my stance, to give him more access.

He watched my face, his attention totally contained on me, watching me tremble under the mastery of his skillful hand at work on the most sensitive spot on my body. The other hand palmed my breast through my bra before sliding it out of its cup, twisting my nipples between two fingers.

I bit my lip and whimpered, leaning back against his chest, looking at his eyes through our reflection. Yep. Complete putty in his hands.

He was breathing heavily, his lips parted, though one corner let up into a crooked, wicked grin. Yep. Putty and he knew it, too.

Unraveling under the mastery of his hands, he took me in front of the mirror from behind. I gave in happily, letting him drag me to the bed for an amazing continuation of yet another session of simple, unadulterated ecstasy.

He fell onto his back, me following on top of him, bent forward at the waist. Helping me adjust my legs so that I lay straight on top of him, his breath was still coming out in large pants, his chest heaving as he fell back against the mattress. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart pump wildly in his ribs. The thunderous rhythm eventually slowed and calmed. I felt his fingers grazing my upper arm once again. With that tender, steady touch, the gentle thrumming sound of his heart, exhaustion and joy claimed me before I knew it, my body succumbing to sleep.

The morning brought unfathomable heat to my sleep and as I was brought back from slumber, I felt like I was drenched in my own sweat, napping in a sauna. I opened my eyes, and found myself draped in Paul's large, copper-skinned body. Amused, I realized he's wrapped around me like a tortilla. He was fast asleep with his head on my chest, his arm over me, holding me close, one of his legs thrown over and hooked around both of mine. That explained the sweating.

He was suffocating me with his ridiculously high wolf-like body heat, and he was heavy. I took a moment to absorb that we'd spent yet another uninterrupted full night together.

Tentatively, I lifted my hand and ran the tips of my fingers down his back. Deep in his throat, I heard a faint distressed groan, and he began to stir. He nuzzled my chest, inhaling deeply as he wakes. Sleepy, blinking brown eyes met and clung to mine beneath his tousled black hair.

"Good morning," he whispered, propping himself up on his elbow, coffee eyes staring down at me.

"Morning." Sadness began to overcome me as I realized that we had to go home again—back to reality, where he lives with his father and I go home to an air mattress at my dad's house.

His head tilted. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I don't want to go home. I don't want this moment to end. Waking up with you like this… I just want to freeze time."

His eyes shut momentarily. "You have no idea how much I wish for the same thing."

"Thank you for coming with me to Portland. You've been the highlight of this whole trip."

His brow furrows. "Don't thank me. I wanted to be here. It should be expected anyway. You should know that I would never let you travel unattended. I like taking care of you. Protecting you."

My hand rose to meet his cheek. "Still, thank you."

"Anything for you, Rachel. You should know that by now."

I shook my head, my hand tracing his face. "I'm still grateful."

He beamed. "That's why I'm so damn crazy about you."

* * *

"Favorite color?" Dana asked before popping a fry in her mouth. She'd insisted we stop by and have a late lunch in downtown Seatown on our way home to the Forks area from Portland.

Paul was gracious enough to accept. He seemed to understand that the approval of my friends was important. In fact it appeared even more important to him than it was to me.

We were in the middle Dana's twenty questions, which to me looked more like an interrogation, but I was too amused and curious to ask her to stop.

Paul's dark eyes gazed straight into mine as he answered, "Brown. Light brown. With some gold in it."

I blushed, averting my eyes towards my burger and clearing my throat. A stupid grin marked my face as I felt Dana's eyes switch between us. She, of course, was delighted in this all—to find that I'd finally found someone. To see that he was just as sincerely into me as I was into him.

"Favorite football team," she prompted.

"Seahawks."

"Nice." She lifted a dubious brow at him. "You sure you're not just saying that because of the town you're in?"

He looked her dead in the eye. "No m'am."

She beamed, and was also tickled pink. He had her wrapped around his little finger, or paw, as it would be. "I like this guy," she confirmed, nudging me.

I shook my head, but inside I was relieved. As if to reassure me, she squeezed my hand under the table—her way of letting me know she had my back. That it didn't matter how old he was. I was happy, and he was great. She was sincerely happy for me.

* * *

Telling my sister wasn't as easy. Her recollections of Paul didn't exactly paint him in a special light—one that wasn't so good, anyway.

She'd called the day before my first day of training for the job from Cabo. She and Solomon were there for another one of his surfing competitions.

Uncomfortable silence from the other line lasted for too long. Too long for me to wait in dreaded anticipation.

"Becky?"

"Wait, so you mean to say all this time… Paul? As in Paul Lahote? The little stubby kid who used to bully our little brother around? That Paul?"

"Uh, yeah, that Paul."

"I knew it! I just knew it!"

I snorted, a little bemused. "Knew what?"

"You spending time at that house. I knew it!"

"Calm down, Beck, sheesh."

"Wait… So… You've been lying about it this whole time."

"What? Not true. We literally just got together."

She wasn't convinced. "Uh huh."

"Officially, I mean. Earlier, I was still confused."

"Bull shit. This thing has been going on for a while hasn't it? You can't lie to me, Raych. I'm you're twin. No one knows you better. And with Paul? Are you kidding me with this?"

I proceeded to tell her everything—well, everything that I was allowed to tell her—that had transpired between us. How we'd met on the beach, and shared the most amazing kiss of my life. How he'd helped me with a flat tire, accompanied me to mom's grave, taken me to a cute coffee shop. How the chemistry between us was insane, and every time I saw him, it was too much to resist. And how eventually, I didn't resist anymore.

"Rachel! You're a straight up cradle-robbing cougar."

I ignored her comment. "Just go to your computer and check your email, will you?"

"I really don't understand you, Raych," she grumbled, but I could hear her march through the house, and then the sound of a computer turning on. "I really don't," she muttered over some typing.

"I'm just saying, if you saw him you'd understand. Can't you just be happy for me?"

"Look, I am happy for you… or sincerely was until you told me who it was."

"Just freakin' download the pic—"

"Holy shit—that's him?"

"Yeah."

I waited with baited breath for further reaction.

"Are you kidding me?"

A small grin stretched on my mouth as I could hear how impressed she was in her voice. "Nope."

"What the… He's… he's… God damn."

I was beaming now, and I giggled, "I know, right?"

A sigh filtered through the other line, her reaction short-lived. "But this doesn't change anything. Isn't he still in high school?"

"Yes but… did you download both photos?"

"There's another?"

"Yeah." I hoped that she'd see the second, the one of us both, laughing and happy. I wanted her to actually see with her own eyes how he made me feel.

"Downloading."

"Okay."

"Are you sure, Raych? He's so… young. And just so… so… so not good enough for you. I just can't imagine—"

"I know he's young, but he's different. And he's changed. He's amazing. I wish you could meet him."

"I _have_ met him."

"But you haven't met him now. And he's… he's terrific."

She sighed. "My phone card's gonna run out."

"Becky, please try to be happy for me."

"I want to."

"Becky…"

The operator suddenly cut into our conversation, her robotic voice irritatingly loud, letting us know she has two minutes left on her card.

"Let's talk about this again when I'm back in the States."

"Fine."

* * *

It seemed everyone in my family disliked Paul. I found that difficult to deal with. Granted, I know he wasn't the greatest choice what with his short temper and former immature stance on life, but he's become much more lately.

As I fixed lunch one afternoon and Jacob learned that Paul was on his way over to help me lug my large care package that I was mailing to Rebecca and Solomon, he quickly finished his sandwich and threw his shoes on. Before he could make a beeline for the door I said, "Could you be more obvious?"

He shot me a blank look. "What do you mean?"

I gestured towards the door. "Leaving so suddenly." Tightening my eyes at his puzzled expression, I blurted, "I know you hate Paul."

He shook his head, his eyes switching over to me. "I don't _hate_ Paul."

I placed a pack of See's Candies Nuts and Chews into the shipment box for my sister. "Right."

"I mean, do I _like_ him?" He looked up at the ceiling as if to think about it. "Nope. Not really. Not at all, to be honest." His eyes turned to me, softening. "But I don't_ hate_ the guy." The tone was honest, mixed with respect and courtesy the old Jake would've given me. The pre-Isabella-Swan Jake. The Jake I so genuinely missed.

"Well, thanks for not hating the guy."

"You're welcome," he smiled at me.

As I folded the sweater I bought for Solomon into the box, I chewed over what was on my mind. I felt his eyes on me, seeming to expect more. I guess it was obvious that I was pondering more.

There was so much I wanted to tell Jake. I knew whatever I had to say next wasn't going to be well received, but I had to. "Jacob, I know this sounds cliché, but there are plenty of other fish in the sea."

He sighed, plopping on the couch beside me and the box, turning his head to the television. It was the subject that I wasn't allowed to bring up.

"He can't keep secrets, can he?" Jacob asked, eyes trained forward, an edge of resentment in his voice.

I was quick to defend him. "He doesn't_ volunteer_ all information. I_ make_ him tell me. Paul just tries to help me understand you."

My brother gave me a challenging look. "Well if he's trying to work on me not hating him, he's not exactly following the right track."

I ignored his comment about Paul, concentrating on only my brother this time. "I worry about you, Jake. I don't need to lose you again."

"You never lost me. I just needed time."

I took a giant leap with my next question. "Do you need it again?"

"Need what?" he asked, puzzled for a moment, but his assessment of my expression appeared to explain my question "Time?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "What does it matter, really?"

"I mean, leaving without saying good bye. Without telling us what's going on, where you are, if you're okay? Without checking in?"

He sighed, his eyes rolling. "It isn't that big of a deal. You know I'll come back." He got up, crossing over to the foyer, poised to leave.

I stood up from Becky's care package, standing squarely towards him. "Jake, don't you understand? You being here... it matters to me."

His hand and gaze were on the knob of the front door. "Says the girl who didn't come home two Christmases in a row."

Ouch. My forehead creased, realizing I couldn't argue with that point. I didn't like his cold tone either, and I tensed with disappointment.

His eyes switched to me with a look of regret. "Sorry," he muttered under his breath.

I didn't look up at him, offended at his words, but unable to retaliate. He'd called me out.

Wordlessly, he crossed the room, planting a small kiss on my forehead. "I can't promise anything," he breathed, "but I'll be sure to give you a heads up if I do. Give us a chance to say goodbye. And you've got a tie with Paul now. If I go, he'll know where I am. Keep you updated." His tone had softened.

I tear escaped my right eye. "Jacob, can't you just stay?"

"I'll let you know," he whispered. "Promise." I felt his hand squeeze my arm before turned towards the door.

At first his words seemed to placate me, but something was wrong with them. I had to replay it in my mind again.

_I'll let you know. Promise._

As my brother walked out of the house without looking back at me, I felt the uneasy churn of my stomach and a lump rise and swell in my throat.

He wasn't promising he'd stay. He couldn't.

As I went for the masking tape to seal up Rebecca and Solomon's gift box, I heard it again.

_I'll let you know. Promise_.

I paused, kneeling next to the box, resting my head against its top. I tried to swallow the disappointment and uneasiness at the implication of his words, but the lump in my throat proved even that small action challenging. He was only promising to say goodbye before he left us again.

Again.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

* * *

Hope you guys had fun reading! Once again, thank you so much for your patience. **Chapter 11: Brother** will follow shortly, in about a week or two.

For updates, follow me on twitter achelle131'


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